I caught sight of our dried up palm branches last night in the trash from just a few days ago on Palm Sunday. My intent was to weave them into a cross.
So that never happened.
Maybe make a Passover alter or Holy Week box and showcase them?
And then it hit me. Good intentions get tossed aside all the time because life happens. Kids, jobs, illness, busyness, worry, relationships, bills, grocery shopping and more grocery shopping. Were the palm branches that freshly hailed Jesus’ arrival to Jerusalem on a donkey just a few days prior dried up and brittle now, tossed to the side crunching under the crowd’s feet as they jeered at Jesus now dragging his cross?
How fickle we are. How fickle I am. It’s our nature.
Show me a new “It Girl” hailed by celebrity magazines and know folks are already digging up dirt and paying for secrets to splash across next month’s glossy rags smearing her name.
From hero to zero.
Wasn’t that Christ’s true Passover experience?
On the eve of Good Friday in the sadness, loneliness, pain of it all may I not toss aside His calling to break our heart for what breaks His. In the days ahead may I remember that brokenness is universal. In the lovely houses with tidy lawns surrounding my easy life may I be aware there are wars going on behind pretty painted front doors. May I not just feel sorry for the hurting and lost but to hurt with them. Be with them. Even if our opinions and lifestyles differ.
It can’t be said enough. Brokenness is universal.
So is fickleness and busyness.
So I choose intention and remember to hold close all the rawness of Good Friday to keep it real all year long. Even if it messes with “my” spot on plans for order.
Otherwise my being here is no more useful than dried up palms in the trash.
Pretty for a minute, forgotten the next.