It was an honor and a privilege to hear Canon Andrew White preach at our church today.  He was the vicar of St. George’s Church in Baghdad, the only Anglican church in Iraq, until he was ordered by the Archbishop of Canterbury (the head of the Anglican church) to leave for the sake of his own security.  He was already preaching in a bullet proof vest.  Members of his family had been threatened and, heartbreakingly, some were killed after refusing to deny Jesus Christ.  I am not sure he would want me to write of the evils of ISIS; rather I believe he would want me to speak of the urgent and fervent need for the immediate and daily prayer by all Christians for our brothers and sisters in Christ all around the world.  This is not Nero’s time, which hardly seemed believable.  But it is every bit as bad.  Canon White speaks Aramaic; THE LANGUAGE OF JESUS CHRIST!  Just hearing him repeating our Savior’s language was incredible.  Christ lived and Christ will come again.  When I was a little girl we used to eat a lot at this nice restaurant (probably run by Baptists — no offense) and I would have to look at this painting each time we passed by on Sundays.  It was of The Rapture and it showed all these cars crashing into one another with the peoples’ spirits ascending into heaven.  I hated it and it frightened me.  I asked my daddy about it and he told me that since the time Christ was crucified people had believed we were in the “End Times”.  And then he said that Christ shall come like a thief in the night (quoting scripture:  1 Thessalonians 5:2) and that “no man knoweth the day or hour” (Matthew 24:36) when Christ shall return and that helped me.  I do not wish to engage in a philosophical discussion of pre-millenium versus post millennium tribulation.  I only know that as a child my father gave me the reassurance that we believed in Him and that He would not forsake us.  I found Father White to be witty, engaging and wearing a mantle of sorrow I am not sure whether or not he was even trying to show.  The man is a soldier in the army of Jesus Christ and a true believer who has seen his convictions put to the test.  I am reminded of the scripture in St. John Chapter 14 verse 2 (King James Version):  “In my Father’s house are many mansions:  if it were not so, I would have told you.  I go to prepare a place for you.”  Let us all stand together — sincerely praying for those who are suffering for Jesus Christ’s sake —  with the assurance that He has prepared a place for us whenever that may be.  We pray for our enemies; that they may feel the power and love of Jesus Christ.  And, whomever you are and wherever you may be reading this — do not doubt for one moment the love our Savior Jesus Christ has for you.  And do not doubt the power of prayer.

“The desire is thy prayers; and if thy desire is without ceasing, thy prayer will also be without ceasing.  The continuance of your longing is the continuance of your prayer.  ~  Saint Augustine

May God have mercy upon all His children who are suffering, and may we truly and earnestly pray for all those who are on the front lines on our behalf.  For those who have read my blog, I am quite sure by now you have figured out I am fond of citing one quote each day.  But today I shall give two:

German Lutheran Pastor Martin Niemolller famously wrote:

“First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”

My little one has been through a lot lately.  It has been surreal to go from essentially two ear infections in four years to discovering a gluten intolerance as well as childhood asthma!  She has recently not only endured an endoscopy and a colonoscopy — at FOUR — but has wound up on breathing treatments plus all kinds of various medicines.  I have felt helpless but she was brave and patient through it all; especially having three huge vials of blood drawn.  She did not make so much as one peep.  I was so proud of her!  And at least we’d gotten to the bottom of why her tummy perpetually hurt.  But I had no idea her lungs were not clear.  I remember saying she had five belts in karate; there was no way she could be having trouble breathing.  When her lungs just weren’t clearing her pulminologist upped her nebulizer treatments from three to four times a day.  This picture was the day we got the great news:  not only were her lungs clear but she has no other allergies but gluten!  She still doesn’t want to have most dairy because she said she wants the cows to have it for their babies (my sweet, sensitive girl!) but I’m thrilled we can start eating eggs again.  I don’t consider those inhumane and they’re a good source of protein.  (It goes without saying we buy them organic and humanely raised.)  Her breathing treatments should drop to two a day in time and I am so grateful she is doing great!  Once again, God has humbled me.  He has shown me the need to pray for all those little ones who have to see doctors a lot or worse, need to go to the hospital.  Texas Pastor Joel Osteen said:

“I’m healthy as can be – not an ache or a pain.  A lot of my prayer is thanking the Lord that I am healthy.  I pray for long life and good health.”

I have always loved him and my prayer is the same … for myself as well as for my loved ones.

I have tried to stay busy today.  I have avoided looking back on pictures too painful to recall, particularly at the end when she was dying.  I lament her passing every day — so kind, so gentle, so loving, and so sweet:  my mother.  Today is her birthday.  If it were not for her life, I would not have life.  And if it were not for my life, my precious daughter would not have life.  I thought about choosing a picture of my mother but there are so many … her youth, as a mother to me, and when she got older.  So I decided to choose instead a picture of her namesake.  She is the very spitting image of her; particularly in this picture with her hair so red from the sun.  When I look at my child; I see her.  And so instead of crying incessantly today I have tried to celebrate the woman I loved most in this world.  I even bathed with her favorite soap of white flowers to bring back her scent.  She is with me every time I hear Claire de Lune, which she played effortlessly on our piano.  She is with me every time I see a cardinal, which was her favorite bird.  She is with me when I make her meatloaf for my family.  She always had a quiet, brilliant radiance of which she was not even aware that emanated from her.  Her skin was so soft and naturally unwrinkled by the hands of time.  But I can feel my daughter’s soft cheek and kiss the same full lips my mother had.  She is with me as I read to my only child; just as she once read to hers.  And she is with me when I think of her favorite scripture:

Psalm 27:1

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?  The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

My mother is always with me and I have the blessed assurance I will be with her again one day.  Until that day I will make sure she is with her namesake as well.  Her gentleness, grace, beauty, and kindness live on.  And I am so grateful to God for that.

Today is the Highest Holy Day in all of Christendom.  I chose this picture to reflect the absence of Christ on the cross.  After all, that’s what this day is about.  Jesus died for our sins by suffering death upon a cross, was buried, and ascended into heaven where He lives and reigns in union with the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.  This is the Good Shepherd altar on the side of our main sanctuary.  I love that the Church is rife with symbolism.  Beneath the altar cross you can see on the left is an “A” and on the right, an “O”.  These are the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet.  Jesus says in the last book of the Bible, Revelation, chapter 22 verse 13:  “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.”  Also, notice the altar color is white.  When the women came to the tomb to annoint Jesus’ body they found the stone had been rolled away and it was empty.  Angels in dazzling white clothing told them Christ had risen from the dead.  White also represents that Jesus has washed our sins away with His sacrifice and that we are made white as snow.  The vestments and altars will remain white for the next 50 days, as Easter is not simply a day but a season in the church.  There is a beautiful Gregorian chant inspired by Saint Paul’s letter to the Philippians (2:8-9) which says:

Christus factus est pro nobis obediens usque ad mortem, ad mortem autem cruces.  Propter quod et dues exaltavit illum, et dedit illi nomen, quod est super omne nomen.  

It translates:  Christ was made obedient even to death, death on the cross.  God therefore exalted him and gave him a name excelling all others.  

These 50 days of Easter ask us to reflect on His presence and to be filled with joy knowing the risen savior is still with us, that God has not abandoned us; nor will He ever forsake us.  So, with the Paschal greeting, Christians rejoice!  Christ is risen!  Christ is risen indeed!  Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!

I have always puzzled over the term “Good Friday” for the day Christ was crucified.  In the Anglican and Episcopal church this is one of only two fasting days in the church calendar.  I try not to remind my husband because he gets nervous and eats everything in sight!  This is also a time for walking the Stations of the Cross.  In a lot of “higher” churches (closer to Orthodox, Catholic and Anglican) there are a series of images all around the inside of the sanctuary depicting Jesus on this, the day of His crucifixion.  The stations evolved from imitations of the Via Dolorosa (Way of Sorrows) in Jerusalem which is believed to be the actual path Jesus walked to Mount Calvary.  The object of the stations is to help the faithful make a spiritual pilgrimage through contemplation of Christ’s Passion.  Generally 14 images are arranged in numbered order along a path around the church.  They are typically small plaques with reliefs or paintings placed around the church’s nave, or main body of the church.  It provides the central approach to the high altar.  The term “nave” is from medieval Latin which means “ship” and was an early Christian symbol.  The stations vary but most commonly are:

1. Jesus is condemned to death.
2. Jesus carries His cross.
3. Jesus falls the first time.
4. Jesus meets his mother.
5. Simon of Cyrene helps Jesus carry the cross.
6. Veronica wipes the face of Jesus.
7. Jesus falls the second time.
8. Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem.
9. Jesus falls the third time.
10. Jesus is stripped of His garments.
11. Jesus is nailed to the cross.
12. Jesus dies on the cross.
13. Jesus is taken down from the cross.
14. Jesus is laid in the tomb.

Also, the Eucharist (the body and blood of Christ) is administered pre-sanctified (consecrated from the Maundy Thursday service).  This is the only time the Christ candle is not lit to show He is not present and suffered in Hell before rising from the dead.  I shall close this evening with the words of the traditional hymn by Venantius Fortunatus (530-609) used extensively in the Church’s public prayer and liturgy:

Crux fidelis

Faithful cross, above all other:  one and only noble tree!  None in foliage, none in blossom, none in fruit thy peer may be:  sweetest wood and sweetest iron, sweetest weight is hung on thee.  Amen.

Today is Maundy Thursday.  In the Episcopal church and others, it is the beginning of the Paschal Triduum, the period which commemorates the passion, death, and resurrection of Christ.  It starts this evening with the maundy, or Washing of the Feet, Jesus performed for His disciples as mentioned in John 13: 1-17.  In verses 14-17 Jesus instructs them:

“If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.  For I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you.  Most assuredly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master; not is he who is sent greater than he who sent him.  If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them.”  

This evening also commemorates the Last Supper; the final meal that, in Gospel accounts, Jesus shared with His Apostles in Jerusalem before His crucifixion.  It is the scriptural basis upon which the Eucharist (Holy Communion) is founded.  St. Paul’s First Epistle to the Corinthians contains the earliest known mention of the Last Supper.  During the meal Jesus predicts His betrayal by one of the Apostles present.  After this Mass all church bells are stilled and the organ is not used until the celebration of Christ’s resurrection Easter Sunday.  In Anglo-Saxon times it was referred to as “the still days”.  This is a time for reflection, prayer and repentance for the greatest sacrifice God has given to all of us.  Jesus offered His life and suffered a terrible death on the cross so that we might live eternally with Him in heaven.  We should all strive to have a servant’s heart and remember with the greatest of gratitude the ultimate sacrifice our Lord made for us.  A French Franciscan priest once famously wrote:  “For it is in in giving that we receive.  It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.  And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”  As we walk through this dark journey with Christ, remember He never will forsake us.  He is the savior of all who believe.  Thanks be to God.

March is a difficult time for me.  My father went home to be with the Lord in March of 1998.  He died next to my mother in bed from a heart attack in the early morning hours.  But he had already been up to read the scriptures though, as was his habit each morning.  When they handed me his belongings at the hospital I opened his Bible to the last thing he had read.  I moved the three by five card he used as a bookmark and my eyes fell upon these highlighted words from II Timothy 4:6 – 8:

Paul’s last testament

For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand.

I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith:

Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.

God, in His infinite graciousness, let me know through His living word that my daddy was OK.  In fact, he was more than OK.  Every time I read these words I think of my father and the life he led for the Lord.  I try to emulate my father and our Heavenly Father’s examples although I know I fall short.  Pushing through my sorrow, I know I will see Daddy again someday.  I am thankful for the faith my father instilled in me and I am passing that faith on to his granddaughter.  So wherever you are and whatever you are doing, keep the faith.  Achukma hoke.

For Christians all around the world, today marks the beginning of Holy Week and the final days of the Lenten season.  Palm Sunday is the Sunday before Easter commemorating Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem before His subsequent crucifixion and resurrection.  The event was mentioned in each of the canonical Gospels (the first four books of the New Testament in the Bible:  Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John).  According to the Gospels, Jesus rode in on a donkey and people celebrating laid down their cloaks and small branches of trees in front of Him as He passed.  Eastern symbolism suggests Jesus did not choose a horse as it was seen as an animal of war.  Rather, His entry symbolized Him as the Prince of Peace.  In Jewish tradition the palm is one of the four species carried for celebrating.  In the Greco-Roman culture of the Roman Empire, which strongly influenced Christian tradition, the palm branch was a symbol of triumph and victory.  In ancient Egyptian religion, the palm was carried in funeral processions to represent eternal life.  In churches today parishioners will hold palm branches which will be blessed with an aspergillum, or holy water slinger, as I told my four year old.  The name derives from the Latin verb aspergere, “to sprinkle”.  In our church little cross pins are made from palm branches to be worn during the service.  I have saved a few over the years and some have dried quite beautifully.  I love the mix of passion and triumph reflected in the liturgy and hymns.  Even the vestments go from scarlet red, representing the supreme redemptive sacrifice Christ was entering the city to fulfill, back to purple which is the color for mourning and penitence during the 40 days of Lent.  It varies from church to parish; I belong to the Episcopal church.  However I believe almost every Christian church, regardless of denomination, incorporates palms into their worship today.  In the words of Pope Benedict XVI:  “Palm Sunday tells us that … it is the cross that is the true tree of life.”

My father always used to tell me that water seeks its own level.  As I get older I realize how much brilliance is packed into that small statement.  Compassionate people go with compassionate people (and get labeled animal nuts), complaining people go with other complainers (and feed on negativity), artists gravitate to other artists (and swap creative energy), and athletic people find other athletes to play with, even if it’s not the sport in which they excel.  I think the exception to this is mean people.  Mean people always seem to have a silent leader — like a general quietly commanding their troops.  And the wanna-be “in” crowd fall in line like lemmings.  I have a lifetime of experience with the last, mostly based upon our (lack of) economic status.  In the fourth grade I was the only one in the Dallas Girls’ Chorus who could not afford to make the trip to sing for the President in Washington D.C.; the other girls were vicious.  I knew my folks were working hard to even get me to rehearsals and concerts and to pay for my uniform.  So I told them I had a great year but I was ready to leave.  I wasn’t; it broke my heart.  I loved to sing.  But I did not want to put any more pressure on them when I knew there was absolutely no way they could pay for it.  I remember being snubbed every day at the water fountain during our break and the girls talking about their nannies who braided their hair.  And I realized that despite my loneliness and my sadness they were the sad and lonely ones.  I had a mother who loved me and waited to teach school until I was in junior high.  My parents made incredible financial sacrifices for my happiness.  I knew Mama was waiting for us at home in our tiny apartment with an incredible meal on the stove.  I always asked Daddy to pick me up on the side because I was ashamed of our car, for which I was also made fun of.  But I knew I had the love and support of my parents shown to me daily in the time they made for me.  I was closer to them than anyone on the planet.  Sadly, that meanness I always experienced has followed me into adulthood; I’m not sure why.  By that I do not mean I am part of it!  It just still seems to happen to me.  It also happens to my husband.  Aside from my Daddy, I have never known a finer man.  I think Freud would agree I married someone just like my father not necessarily in looks (although they do share incredible handsomeness) but in traits and values.  In 1 Chronicles 16:11 of the Bible it says:

Seek the LORD and His strength; Seek His face continually.

I have always loved fortunes in “cookies” and pictured above is the one I received last night.  “Those who seek will find.”  I intend to seek the Lord and His strength and to seek His face continually.  I intend to seek out the compassionate, the artistic, the athletic, and the kind people with whom I can build friendships.  I want the same for my family.  And, if we cannot find anyone else like-minded, God in His graciousness has blessed us with each other.  I have never gone along with the crowd, nor has my husband.  I can tell my daughter will not either.  Water seeks its own level.

It was a day full of running around.  I hadn’t slept much and my little one was in her frog pj’s all day.  A friend thought I was clever for putting her in them since this was a leap year.  As much as I would like to take credit for being witty, it was just happenstance.  Every morning I fill our fountains for the day and, in my haste, I neglected to do so today.  Tonight I discovered our pot fountain was dry; there was almost no water left in the reservoir.  I hastily filled it to the brim but it seemed too late.  Water is supposed to pour from the top vessel to the center one and on to the bottom before returning to the basin to start again.  I have spent many years as a caregiver and I am thankful to have a husband and daughter who need me now.  But I realize I have neglected myself and in turn I know I will not be able to help them if I get too burned out.  As silly as it seems, I stood there with that hose willing my little fountain to work.  It is a small thing but it brings me peace and joy.  Finally I shut off the hose in resignation.  I had neglected it to the point of it just giving out.  Then as I was turning to close the gate I started to hear the faint, beginning sounds of water trickling.  And I realized, you cannot give from a dry well.  It is not selfish to make a little time for one’s self and for some reason I guess I needed to give myself permission to do so.  This struggling fountain was a physical reminder that I mustn’t let myself run dry or I will be of no help to my family or others.  American author Jim Rohn said, “You must take personal responsibility.  You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself.  That is something you have charge of.”  This also served as a reminder to me that, in my arrogance, I need God.  I can do nothing without Him.  I have everything because of Him.  So many references are made in scripture about Christ being the only living water.  I need to spend more time at the foot of the fountain that never runs dry.