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April 6, 2007 |
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I am sitting in the waiting room of Goodyear tire shop in Orlando, FL. It was prayers that kept that front tire from exploding right on the Interstate. Thank you. (Of course, now that I am here and Matthew drove up north with the kids, they found a leak in the rear tire - and we are already getting two front tires!) Well, I guess it 's appropriate that I should be sitting at a tire shop on Good Friday. Our Lent has been about traveling. I have my lap top and in it I have the score of "The Passion". I close my eyes, and apart from having to work quite hard to ignore the overwhelming smell of rubber, I find myself right there - on Via Dolorosa. I stand there and watch as they bring the man covered in wounds. I see him carrying the cross. I see Simon of Cyrene walking right there behind him. I look around and there we all are - Dante, Evan and Blais in their little "I do believe" T-shirts. I try to cover their eyes, but at the same time, I think they should see Him. They need to know what human sin can do to a man, to the Son of God. They need to see how calm and filled with forgiveness He is. But they are so little, their hearts so innocent... There is Matthew, looking very tired. At least we made it. We traveled far and we got this close. And it's my husband who planned the whole trip and managed to get us there. I am proud of him. And grateful. And I love him. There is Maya and Janel and Denny. They look a bit tired too, but to me they look like heroes - dignified and humbled at the same time. We look at each other and we realize we are all just a tiny part of an enormous mosaic of God's universe. I look around and I see the faces we met along our trip - the guys from Lebanon State Prison; Russ from Knoxville, TN; Stasia from Naples, FL; the man who lost his son from Coral Springs, FL; the 12 year old kid who said he had been down but "the music picked him up and now he'll be all right"; the piano teacher and her mother from somewhere near Chicago... I don't know their names, but it feels like they are all family. And across the Way of the Cross, I see my father. He looks happy. He waves at me and smiles. He is trying to tell me that everything will be all right, that there is no reason for tears any more. Our Crucified Lord has conquered death. The pain is real, but it only lasts for a moment. Life in God is eternal. The telephone rings at the front desk and I am brought back to the Goodyear shop. I wipe my tears off and look around. There is no one here. No one. I am all alone. With the music. My eyes see the tires and the TV that's turned on, but my mind is somewhere else. My heart is hurting. I can't stop crying. He is on the Cross, suffering, dying. Thank you, God. Thank you for life. For this beautiful world you have given us. The birds and the whales, the flowers and the sea shells, the mountains and the oceans. The blue skies and the thunderstorms. Thank you for life. Thank you for giving us hearts that feel. Thank you for laughter and joy. Thank you for the ability to be moved to tears. Thank you for the music and the power it has to touch our souls in the most profound and powerful ways. Thank you, God for forgiveness and your love. Thank you for the chance to believe.
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