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Good Friday

What an oxymoron!

Good Friday?

Good? Friday.

Good. Friday?

Good? Friday?

What is so … good, about Good Friday?

I will spend today contemplating a most horrific death, a most vile end of a life, a most traumatizing execution.

I will spend today, tears streaming down my face, imagining the horror of a mother watching her son tortured, and, finally, die, right in front of her.

I will spend today considering the whys and hows of a father … not just any father, but the only father with the means to stop this event, at any time (even before it began). And that he not only didn’t stop it … He purposed this very event, this very death, even before His son was conceived into human flesh.

His Son.

And then, I will spend today realizing that it wasn’t all about Him, the son.

It was, it IS, about ME, today.

It was, it IS, about YOU, today.

The Father, so loved me (so loved you), that He wanted to save us. But saving the innately guilty without cost is impossible! And the cost is always, blood. It is through the blood of His son, that we are saved, that we are redeemed.

“He is so rich in kindness and grace

that he purchased our freedom

with the blood of his Son

and forgave our sins.”

Ephesians 1:7

If I  (you) accept this gift, this sacrificial gift, that He never forces upon me (you), then today is, in every way, not just Good Friday, but the best Friday, ever given.

Good Friday? Yes

It wasn’t the nails…

… that held him to the cross …

… it was love

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I have experience the longest four weeks of my life, with hubby, our son, and youngest daughter away on an adventure! The feeling has been similar to the expectancy of the birth of a baby, or the waiting for your wedding day! And, with all three of these times of waiting, they culminate with embracing, words of love and drinking in their scent, which you know so intimately as belonging to someone who is yours.

Kind of like … dogs. You know, you take your beast for a walk, and are walking towards another person and their beast. Both people say ‘hi’, and the beasts … well they go for the sniff and lick … seriously, THAT is something I can’t wait to get to heaven and ask God that most theological of questions … ‘why do dogs sniff each other’s butts?’ But I digress.

But really, the familiarity of a scent, that is the evidence of an intimate relationship.

To inhale their scent, that, to a mom, says they are mine. I remember one other time when hubby was away, and, on the phone I told him that I missed his scent. His response was to pass gas, so I could at least hear it … we are so from two very different planets! Believe me, there are some scents that, as a woman, I could never miss! (I know this is a universal woman thing too … a few weeks back, my daughter says, ‘Mom, I so miss having girls with me … my brother had a chili dog today … and I’m confined to the car with the effects of it!’).

bad smell

We may know many people, and we might even know their cologne, or perfume, or hand lotion, or even soap, but to know their individual scent … your relationship has to be closer, more physical, more intimate.

When I go to the East Coast to visit my family, it is not just my mother’s embrace that holds me to her, but her familiar scent. I cannot imagine anything forcing the memory of the scent of my mom from my mind.

I am sure I could be blindfolded, and still be able to identify those most intimately connected to me, by sniffing their necks (okay, it would also be easy to identify hubby, as his is covered with whiskers).

Now, don’t get me wrong, we are not just sitting around sniffing each other. We will talk, we will hug (we are ‘huggers’), we will play, we will travel, we will see sights, we will go to the beach (I wonder if the South East Beach smells like a North East beach? I swear I can still be one hundred miles from the East Coast, and I can smell it … home). But those first moments, those first hours together, it is our sense of smell that was and will be most keenly reunited.

“Everyday, you make me smile.
Everyday, you make me glad to be a mother.
Everyday, you make a memory I’ll never want to forget.
Everyday, I’m more thankful than the day before that you are my little boy/girl.
Everyday, I smell your hair and touch your skin
and wonder
how I ever lived my life without you.
Everyday.”
Unknown Author

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Once you read this tale, you will be shocked to know that my grandmother is from Scotland … the land of tea (and shortbread … mmmmm, who could ever forget the shortbread … I wonder how long I would need to walk, to work off a good shortbread cookie?).

So my mother is my grandmother’s daughter, therefore, mom has about half of her life-giving blood donated by the nation of Scotland. Truly, good tea-making should be in her genetic code. But, it’s not!

Here is my mom’s (or is it mum’s) method of making tea …

First: One must use Red Rose Tea Bags

Next: Boil water, while, pouring out ‘yesterdays’ tea, rinsing the pot (must be Pyrex)


Next: Set pot on the wire ring, on the burner

Then: Place two Red Rose Tea bags into pot.

Then: When the water is boiled, pour into the pot.

Next: Turn burner to ‘low’ and allow to steep … for many, many minutes!

Finally: Enjoy

But, for my mom (of fine tea-making Scottish heritage), that is not the end of the story. No, MY mom doesn’t start the process all over again at lunch (or, as is said on the East Coast, ‘dinner’), and then at dinner (on the East Coast, known as ‘supper’). MY mom makes a full pot (just for herself, as dad is a strict milk-drinker) in the morning, and then re-heats, by re-boiling, the morning tea for lunch (dinner) and dinner (supper).

YUCK!

What self-respecting Canadian, of Scottish heritage, would make such a brew? (and what daughter, of said Canadian-Scottish heritage TELL of it?). Why it is just wrong, and in some countries, might even be viewed as criminal behavior.

All that said, some mornings (and only in the mornings, because I know of the dishpan quality of the tea as the day grows older), I so wish I could sit at her kitchen table (no one, in their right mind, on the East Coast would sit anywhere else for tea and a visit), and watch her go through her morning tea-making routine, and listen to her talk of all the people we know (what else do you talk about on the East Coast, besides other people … talk of the weather could cause people to sink in a hole as deep as those of us on the West Coast are wallowing in), and sit, in the same seats we have sat in since I can remember, and have our tea … together.

And when I am old (er … my body is already headed on the irreversible pathway), and my mom is gone, you know what I will remember, with fondness, every time I see a wire burner ring, or Red Rose Tea, or a Pyrex tea pot? I will remember my mom’s re-boiled tea, and the great memories I have of sitting in ‘our’ seats at the table in her kitchen, gossiping talking fondly ( 😉 ) about all those we know. Maybe re-boiled tea is not so bad.

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This one is gonna be a long one, because it is the culmination of a handful of blog entries that are still only drafts, they are … unfinished. So grab your coffee, or tea (from the unfinished blog entry ‘Re-Boiled Tea’, oh, and that’s for you mom … everyone who blogs knows that if no other person on the face of the earth reads your blogs, mom does … and dad, so get your glass of milk), and, of course, chocolate, and snuggle into your seat, it’s going to be a long one (if I get it ‘finished’)!

Now, where do I start? I know how to finish (I can finish the cake, finish reading the book, finish the chocolate, finish the yard work, finish the candy, but I digress). But starting can be more difficult.

I am not a news-lover! As a matter of fact, with hubby gone now for two weeks, the TV REMOTE is gathering dust! Oh, I spent countless hours enjoying reno. and do-it-yourself shows, but, my (undiagnosed) ADD (this is from the unfinished blog entry ‘My Daughter says I have ADD’) can stand TV for only so long!

I do love good news, though. And, recently I heard really good news.

My dad has been sick much of this past winter. He easily gets respiratory infections, pneumonia anything to do with lungs and breathing, he’s had it! He’s been admitted to hospital, drugged through the winter season with an assortment of medications that have been equally successful and failure in improving his condition, and had a butt-load of medical tests and procedures to uncover the root of his problems.

When there is ‘stuff’ going on in the lives of my family, I am so keenly aware of how far the east is from the west (from the unfinished blog entry of the same name). They live on the east coast, and I, on the west. They can watch the sun rise out of the Atlantic, and I can watch it set in the Pacific. They ‘get to have’ (they do not necessarily appreciate this privilege, as they got snow on April 1st  this year … April Fools!) snow in the winter, and I suffer (and everyone around me suffers in my vocal suffering) with a season called Monsoon Season. On the East Coast you can buy coastal properties for under $100,000, on the west coast coastal properties are too expensive to hotel at! On the east coast the humor is dry and sarcastic (from the unfinished blog ‘We Have Sarcasm Themed Dinners’ … Seriously!), on the west coast, humor is … shipped in from the east 😉  And, I digress, again!

Truly, living so far away is a sucky bummer (from the unfinished blog entry of the same name … you’re gonna love that one). There is no popping over for a ‘mom talk’, there is no being there for birthdays, and Father’s Day, and bumping into brothers at the mall, and having a house full of my kid’s cousins. There is also no spending occasions with cheek squeezing auntie (where I come from aunts is not pronounced ‘ants’. Ants crawl on the floor, but my aunts … hum, maybe this reasoning doesn’t work so well!), or that creepy uncle (lets face it, every family has at least one relative that is the personification of ‘creepy’) … hum, there are some benefits of living on the opposite coast 😉 .

So this week I heard good news, after all of the tests my dad has been going through, the results are in, and he is okay. No cancer (a relief, as his dad suffered with lung cancer before he died), no pneumonia, no nothing really, except for a virus that he had picked up while in the hospital, at some point. Apparently this virus will be residing in him, as long as he’s residing on planet Earth, and is not problematic unless it flares, but there is good, reliable medication for it that.

Ahhhhh! Good News is so Good!

And so, we all continue living our unfinished lives, in our temporary homes (from the unfinished blog of the same name). It makes me wonder, as I always do when confronted with news (good or bad) … what is the lesson, what is there to learn from this? I figure if something is going to get my heart rate up, or cause me to sweat, or make me laugh hysterically, or cry from the depths of my soul, or make me shake with anger … there must be something to learn from it (whatever ‘it’ is), that I can benefit from. Sometimes it is so much easier to see the ‘benefit’ than others, when it seems to only be a lesson, and a hard one at that.

It’s sort of like when a child touches something hot, after being told not to … that is a hard lesson, and, for the child, who is crying because her hand hurts, the idea of ‘benefit’ from the lesson goes unseen. But, as an adult, we can see that the lesson, although painful, has benefit, as the child will not enter into that danger again. Hum, I guess our experience provides a bigger perspective.

Kind of like our lives. But we are the child. We have ‘stuff’ in life that burns our hands, that burns our hearts, and hurts like crazy. We think there is no tomorrow (or wish there was no tomorrow, so that the pain, the agony the hard ‘stuff’ of life would be over). But, what we ‘children’ think we see as complete and whole … God, the bigger-picture seeing parent, sees as unfinished, and He sees a bigger picture.

I wish I had His lens!

But, for now I am thankful that my dad is okay, that his days are unfinished … I guess there is a lesson, something to learn from this  … for me, for him, for all of our family. I guess we need to seek out the answer to that, until it is … you know, finished.

We don’t yet see things clearly.

We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist.

But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright!

We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!

But for right now, until that completeness,

we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation:

Trust steadily in God,

hope unswervingly,

love extravagantly.

And the best of the three is love.”

1 Corinthians 13:12-13

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It has been ‘just a regular day’ today …

6am – alarm goes off (but what if it hadn’t?)

7:30am – kids awaken (but what if they hadn’t?)

8:30am – start work (but what if I had no work that I love?)

3:30pm – purchase produce (what if I had no means to do that?)

4:30pm – prepare dinner (what if the cupboards were bare?)

5:30pm – eat dinner with family (what if I had no family?)

10pm – dream bedtime (what if I had no bed?)

There are many ‘what ifs’ in each and every ‘regular’ day. They are the what ifs that, if they were different, if they altered, my regular day would be catastrophic, disheartening, life-changing. I spoke to a teen today, whose uncle (with young children) is dying. No day is ‘regular’ for him, anymore. Today his wife and children wish for a ‘regular’ day again. As an excitement junkie, I can easily become bored with all things regular. But today reminded me that ‘regular’ can mean real, beautiful, satisfying, worth-living-for … LIFE. And it’s better than the alternative.

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