the first thousand

a dark tomb

today we planted seeds in the garden; carrots, beetroot, radishes, turnips and onions. We placed them in their dark little ground-tombs and covered them up.

waiting waiting waiting

waiting for new life
waiting for the tombs to release the life that promises to burst forth from them

unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it cannot bear life

(”I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” ~ John 12:24)

Gift 255

today is the day we remember death

though I must say it was far from my mind as we sat out at Cornwallis Beach with friends (246), the sky was clear deep blue(247), sun shining(248), hardly a breath of wind(249), warm water(250), bacon on the BBQ(251), fresh homebaked bread(252) and these(253):

ah yes, death

but death that would bring a promise of better things to follow

better even than today

unlike the eel in the stream that got away with its life today (in spite of recurrent valiant efforts from boys and girls and men alike to capture it), Jesus did not escape

He could have, but chose not to

He chose death

Gift 254

Thanks God for the Gift of Preparation (242)
and
The Gift of Reflection (243)

Thanks You for the lessons You have taught us this Easter (244)
and
Thanks for the conversations we’ve had (245)

When we initially brainstormed *what does Easter make us think of?*, someone mentioned THE ROBBERS.

We identify with the robbers. We are the robbers. It wasn’t just them. It wasn’t someone long ago, well, not only. It’s everyone today too, and all in between.

I also identify with *robbing*. For longer than I care to remember, I have felt robbed of my joy. I have occasionally quietly mentioned it in passing. I have chatted a little, warily, when a friend or two has delved deeper. I have been praying.

Then today I read this. It is a wonderful piece - I really encourage you to read it yourself.
No longer will I be robbed. No longer will I rob God.

Thank You God for this awesome wake-up-call Gift. (240)

Thanks for Your gift of Joy. (241)

speaking of a story full of miracles…..
how often have your curtains torn from top to bottom?

Can we ever thank You enough for allowing us the Gift of free access to You? (239)
Thanks that we don’t need a priest to come between us and You.
Thanks for the Mediator, Jesus Christ.

Please help us understand what a privilege it is.

Thanks God, for a story of miracles.
For a story that is more than physical materials.

Thanks for the gift of there being more to life than dust. (23

the wine poured out in love
the wine we drink again and again so that we remember

We didn’t go into a church building today.
But we met with friends. (Gift 227)
God was there. (22
As we trekked along the hilltop we could look out and drink in the vista of ocean and bush (”native forest” for you northern hemisphere readers). (229)
It was magnificent. Awesome. Majestic.

We tripped down a narrow path to the beach and explored.
We found a cave….a cave you could walk right through if you crouched down low enough. (230)
We discovered a monument of rocks and an old gentleman who could witness it had been there for years , but noone knows why. A chance meeting. A gift. (231)
We constructed our own monument, carrying rocks from nearby, carving names on said rocks with shells. (232)
We remembered the Israelites making monuments to mark God’s work in their lives. Stone piles to prompt children to ask “Why Dad?” and provide an opening for Dad to relay again the history of his people. (233)

As we wandered along the beach, thoughts of monuments and God’s work and tradition and wine and remembrance and keeping the story alive all swirled around my head like the sand being blown round our feet by the wind. The wind of His Spirit perhaps. (234)

We talked of keeping focus. Of knowing the right answers, but living a different reality. We dabbled into the stream of *how do we stay connected with what we know to be true in the day-to-day?* *How do we renew our strength?* Well, the two mums did (235); everyone else was racing around chasing seaweed and rolling down sand dunes. (236)

This is my blood poured out for you. (237)
Remember.

Thanks, God, for such a rich day of gifts. It couldn’t have been better.

Such a Contrast.

With the benefit of hindsight, we know Jesus was going to be sentenced to death.
But I doubt anyone even imagined that the day he rode a donkey into Jerusalem.
The people spread their cloaks on the road, waved their palm branches….I guess our modern equivalent would be a ticker-tape parade with balloons.

Having brought the old ponga frond inside, I keep thinking of the parade whenever I look out at our pongas. I am intensely aware that I join with those throngs in praise….and then turn to despise.

Thanks God, for reminders of Your Story in Daily Things. (226)

more betrayal, heaviness, darkness,
knowing but still loving

God I need to thank You every day for Your love. Your mercy is new every morning, yet never changes. You never change. You are the same.
Yesterday. Today. Forever.
Your love is eternal.

It is hard to understand.
Difficult to capture.
Maybe impossible to fathom.

God, thanks for the gift of being outside my understanding. (225)