Holy Week. . . sometimes it feels like that. . . the days before the resurrection can feel fearful, insecure, depressive, sad, filled with longing, and hoping against hope that things will get better. . . needing God’s Spirit to lift us up once again, to cup our chin in His gentle hands and lift our face to look up at Him, to look into those deep, pure, beautiful eyes and see the love that is there, that He will never leave or forsake us. . . ever.
Tonight my husband and I walked up our walking hill—a breath-stealing, heart-pumping, leg-aching climb. I was already tired and kind of mad that we hadn’t made this trek earlier in the day. My husband said we should quit when we reached the top of the hill. Not wanting to cut our walk short, I told him this was the hard part and after that it would be easy schmeezy. Sure enough, after we reached the top, we continued our walk down a gentle slope and I hardly noticed that I was tired anymore. Since the worst was over, we could easily keep going. Some days we walk the other direction from our house, which is mostly downhill to begin with, but on the way back home, we climb several smaller inclines. When I see the last hill before we reach our house, I always think, only one more hill to climb! I can make it!
Jesus climbed a hill—a breath-heaving, heart-wrenching, leg-crushing climb. He was already beaten and bleeding but he wasn’t mad. His Father, however, was legitimately angry with our sin so took it out on Him—on His perfectly pure, righteous, and deeply loved Son. The hardest part wasn’t even climbing that hill. The hardest part was yet to come. My chest tightens and my breathing becomes harder just thinking about that.
I still have a hill to climb. I don’t even know if it is the last one, but one of these days it will most certainly be the last one. Until then. . . I want to walk in the Light and abide in the Vine. Please join me. We can rest when we get to the top of the hill, catch our breath, and be strengthened for the rest of the journey.

I BASK in the warmth of the sun today with eyes that feast on blossoming trees. Blossoms that transform a colorless winter-dead landscape into the vivid, living breath of spring. A bride in white lace waltzes in the breeze with her gowned bridesmaids in dogwood pink to exult in the glory of Creator. I love springtime here in Spokane, especially after a hard winter. Especially. Maybe I would not appreciate the whisper of spring if I had not heard the groans or felt the bitter tears of winter. Maybe I would take the sun’s warmth for granted if winter had not first gripped my heart and frozen my very breath. Perhaps I’d be oblivious to the beauty around me today if I had not seen the ugliness of naked, black branches etched against a brazen sky. But today, my Lover speaks and says to me, “Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me. . . My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places on the mountainside, show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely. Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.” *1 So many emotions stir within! Both the winter and the spring of my life squeeze and press my heart—painfully and mysteriously molding it into the very image of Jesus (see Rom. 8:28-29). I cannot change the past, but the past can change me. Therefore, I strive to throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and determine to run with perseverance the race marked out for me. For me.*2 Our sacred romance, the Lover of our souls calls to each of us. He calls us to Himself. He calls us out of this earth place to walk with Him in the light, to abide in the Vine, and to fill us with Himself as nothing in this world can ever do. Jesus… O Jesus is our whisper of spring. *1 Song of Songs 2:10-15 *2 Hebrews 12:1

My challenge this week is to figure out how to navigate through the technological decisions and clicks of setting up a blog page with theme, photos, and pages. I’m overwhelmed, fearful of this unknown territory, and near panic. Obviously, I simply can’t do this. So… my only alternative is to call my 12-year old granddaughter in Alaska to guide me through this process, which I just did. Humbling. Yet I’m grateful for her sweet, cheerful voice, confident guidance, and the love between us. Now I pray that somehow all this effort will result in something worthwhile. I told my brother a while back that I’m really not naturally a writer unless God inspires me. He rebuked me and said writing is just hard work. I know that. I do that. And yet, I still need God’s Spirit to flow through my thoughts and turn them into something worth writing and reading. So that is my prayer and God’s answer includes perseverance, hard work, and, a whole lot of humility.

Perhaps today is the day to let others into our secret place, to listen for Your Still Small Voice and follow You wherever You may lead us. As I stumble along in this dark earth place, I reach for Your hand and it is always there–guiding, leading, comforting, healing. O how grateful I am for the living power of Your Holy Scriptures, for Your Holy Spirit who sheds light into the darkness through Your Word–a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. So now, I ask You to flow Your Word through my life, through my words so others will love and follow You with me. I have no greater earthly joy than in an unbroken relationship with You and with others. Please bless this journey together.