Grateful for this day

These past few days are I believe the most significant days in history. What happened over 2000 years ago was planned for and anticipated since the beginning of time and the events changed our world forever. Yet I find that all too often I let the days pass from year to year with only a slight acknowledgement. It has been Holy Week. So many miracles were performed, so many lessons taught. Christ raised Lazarus from the dead and then proceeded towards his own. Maundy Thursday, the day the sacrament was introduced to us and lessons were taught by Him who loves us more than anyone else. I often dream of being in the upper chamber of that home where Christ with a bowl of water and soft towels taught his disciples that love was what it was really all about. With the passion of Peter I wish to declare my commitment. Unfortunately, like Peter, I find myself too often hiding in the shadows. It is not that I do not know or believe, it is perhaps that I am just a bit afraid and unsure of what to do.
Gethsemane. I do not need to physically go there to know or feel the significance of this place of crushing. It is the first cold press, symbolic of the First Born, which produces the sweetest oil. The bitter taste of the olive is removed and turned to fragrant, sweet tasting oil but only after extreme pressure is applied. It is not unfitting that He would intercede for us in such a place as this. But like others that love and follow Him I find myself dozing off instead of keeping watch. When I wake from this earthly life I do not want to be greeted by the disappointing question, could I not keep watch?

When I think about these events it reminds me to be grateful of my womanhood. It was to a women Christ first declared himself as the Messiah. It was the faith of Mary and Martha, sisters of Lazarus, that prompted His compassion to raise the dead. A women, who was about my same age right now, watched as her son was offered up, not without suffering. She did not turn away but stood steadfast in her vigil of love. And in the quiet morning of the third day He appeared once again to a women and, as the Resurrected Christ, instructed her to declare His coming.

I long to be like the sisters of Bethany and the widow of Zarephath or the young Abish who ran through the streets declaring her faith. I need to reach out towards others, offering help and love and in so doing I will touch His robe. For these few days I wish I could set away all worldly chores. It is with family and loved ones that desire to be. I yearn to be inspired to do good things and then follow through with action. "For my soul delighteth in His Words" and they sing out "How great Thou art". Blessed be the Lord God. Happy Easter!