Important Disclaimer

Since I currently have several employers/supervisors/churches/etc., please know that none of the words on my blog represent them or their beliefs. This blog is my own creation.

It also does not represent my children's perspective, nor my mother's; they think I am funny, but misguided.
(Quick update: only my mother thinks I'm funny now.)

Sunday, April 13, 2014

I Might Owe the Lord $32.10

And I will pour out a spirit of compassion and supplication on the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, so that, when they look on the one whom they have pierced, they shall mourn for him, as one mourns for an only child, and weep bitterly over him, as one weeps over a firstborn. On that day the mourning in Jerusalem will be as great as the mourning for Hadad-rimmon in the plain of Megiddo...

"Awake, O sword, against my shepherd, against the man who is my associate," says the LORD of hosts. Strike the shepherd, that the sheep may be scattered; I will turn my hand against the little ones. In the whole land, says the LORD, two-thirds shall be cut off and perish, and one-third shall be left alive. And I will put this third into the fire, refine them as one refines silver, and test them as gold is tested. They will call on my name, and I will answer them. I will say, "They are my people"; and they will say, "The LORD is our God."

~Zechariah 12:1-11, 13:7-9

It was Palm Sunday today, and the weather has turned. We are nearing the end of Lent, and therefore, nearing the end of my lenten practice of blogging daily about grief. 46 days of releasing grief, I said, in order to make room for joy.

Truth be told, by now I am tired of blogging about grief--the daffodils are blooming, and it is warm
enough to sit on my porch. Just two weeks ago the high was 39 degrees, and now I'm sitting pretty at 78. I am reveling in the summer warmth that is nearly here!

We sang Hosanna! And we waved the palm branches, while marching around the sanctuary. We had a brunch with mounds of good food--and I love good food! A friend was over last night, and then another friend this afternoon. The cherry tree across the street has burst into flame with pink blossoms (and the allergies that come with it). My tattoo is healing nicely, and I have resolution to a few things that have troubled me these last few months.

Oh, we are nearly done with this season!

But not done yet. We are almost to Easter with the trumpets and triumphalism. Almost to the egg hunts and chocolate bunnies. But not quite.

A person could miss it, this last week of Lent. You could go to church today and see Jesus entering Jerusalem on a donkey--a humble king, but King to be sure. And then next week you might go to Easter and see Jesus resurrected from the tomb.

From joy to joy! From glory to glory! Palm Sunday to Easter! King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Glory! Hallelujah!

Except that on Thursday there will be a last meal, and betrayals negotiated. There will be a desperate prayer in the garden, which goes unanswered. There will be a farce of a trial in the middle of the night, and no reprieve. Torture and death, a terrible thirst. The veil in the temple will be torn in two. An earthquake. Relationships among Jesus' inner circle will be altered, irrevocably, eternally. Three years of work, down the drain. More betrayals, a burial. All will be lost, between Palm Sunday and Easter.

Glory to Glory. But more properly, Foolishness to Utter Despair and Madness to Confusion. Jesus on a donkey, coming in the back gate--some king! Somewhat predictably, Jesus's death. Then an empty tomb. Don't be fooled by false spring!

The greatest joys come from the greatest sorrows--I have yet to understand why this is so. No mountains without valleys. No yin without yang. No joy without grief. What a lousy system! I don't know if you can't do it better, or you won't, O Lord, but either way, I do not approve!

I suppose it is not mine to know. So I'll go back to eat, drink, and be merry. 
I found a grey hair today
frolicking in plain view
sticking out the way the rest of my hair doesn't
send me more of those grey hairs, Lord Jesus
I triple dog dare you.
No hair dye for me.
I have a name for every wrinkle on my face
A story for every inch that I sag.

My mother and my sister lived together for a few years.
They kept a tally of who owed what.
My sister's rent went in one column
In another, the milk, the cereal, whatever else at the store.
The dry cleaning, a phone bill
Back and forth
who owed what.
At the end of those years
they tallied it all up
and somebody owed somebody
or some such.

If by the Lord's hand
I have been scattered,
turned against, cut off, abandoned,
if I have been refined and tested
in the fire of the Lord,
what do i owe Jesus?
what does Jesus owe me?
this is a fair question
that cannot be answered by the tomb
empty or not
but I'm keeping $32.10 on hand
just in case.


  1. That's not quite how it worked, but for the point of your blog it's fine.

  2. *shrug* I never properly understood the family's financial genius, it's true.


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