For five straight days, I woke in an apartment filled with left over Christmas chocolate—but no
But no worries! Since Nathan, my son, has plenty of chocolate, I plan to buy him a coffee pot for Christmas. It won't happen next year.
With a large house-brew in hand, I entered the Johns Creek United Methodist Church chapel and sat on a back bench. While caffeine cranked my gears, MAD camp volunteers (think music arts, and drama) supervised the elementary aged students as they arrived.
As the fog lifted, I watched Nathan and a few of his students from Milton High School lead morning worship. Like this:
It helps that the ultrasound guided shot in my right hip alleviated some of my pain. And that by the end of next week, my hip and the back surgeons will have offered their input. While their plans may involve surgery, the hope of less pain and better mobility keeps 'operation overload' at bay.
But I would be remiss if I don't share one other aspect of my recent change.
Only hours before I left for MAD camp, I came face to face with someone who judged my heart in seriously wrong ways a few years ago. And based on my current schedule, more run-ins are likely.
But where harsh words were once spoken, this person reached across the threshold and insisted on saying thank-you with a hug. While I knew the exchange served as a divine rewrite, once alone, my chest tightened and I crumpled into tears.
Painful memories washed over me. Deep, painful memories accompanied by deep, mournful sobs. Unable to turn off the emotion, in time, I shut down and took a nap.
When I woke, I got up from my living room floor, rebooted, and finished packing. Then I drove to Nathan's, thankful for the reprieve.
When I entered my classroom the next day, I met Anna and Riley, two of Nathan's former students. Over the course of the week, they made me feel like a rock star. Having loved my son as a teacher, they were enamored to hang with his mom.
And it was just really fun:
Riley, Nathan, and Anna leading worship.
Dad sharing his trombone as part of the musical petting zoo.
Dad, me, and the MAD camp director, Nathan.
Anna showing signs of wear and tear...
Me and The Milton Gang:
Riley (the t-shirt designer) Anna, me, Olivia, Nathan, and Claire.
In some ways I wish I could explain the significance of what happened in more detail. But what really matters is the change. The redemption. Perhaps even the resurrection.
My church is slowly concluding a year long study of the Gospel of John. So, last Sunday, only a few days after July 4th, Pastor Matt Morgan preached on the empty tomb.
Matt pointed out that even though Jesus predicted his death and resurrection many times, when Mary first saw the empty tomb, she considered the worst, saying,“They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!” (John 20: 2 NIV).
Even after Peter and John ran to the tomb with her to see for themselves, it still didn't cross their minds that Jesus might be alive. Left alone, "Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.
They asked her, 'Woman, why are you crying?'" (John 20: 11 - 13 NIV).
I wondered the same thing as I wept in my living room a few weeks ago. Things were better. The broken more whole. The tomb empty. So, why was I crying? The junction that led from loss to life simply provoked intense emotion.
It often does.
So, as I sat in the pew last Sunday, I wondered what I would be like if I woke to a picture of the empty tomb on my bedroom wall every day. Would the constant reminder of resurrection power replace my need for coffee?
Probably not. But still, there's something about the thought that intrigues me because there's a lot to cry about in this world. An awful lot.
But there's also an empty tomb where grave clothes lay abandoned and sorrow turns to joy.
Some photos courtesy of pixabay.com
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