“I hear the whisper of wild hope.”
Good Friday, so we did what we do sometimes: made some food and packed the car and loaded the dog. We went to the park (but not the one where the dog can run off-leash, a mistake, we discovered and a minor one). We set out a blanket and opened some wine. We watched the sunset. We ate. We added something to our picnic ritual as well: we read the story of Good Friday, aloud, to each other. We planned poorly, though, and lost the light. And then we prayed and we thanked God for grace and we remembered the sacrifice and tried to honor the cost. I think what happened mostly, though, was we experienced his great love. And we are first children of God, so says John who was his friend.
I opened these files today, looked at the photos and thanked God for his goodness. I love these images; they are not my best, really, but they remind me to slow down, and not just on date nights with my boyfriend. These images remind me that we have these opportunities- every day, every moment- to be purposeful and see God and interact with him in the moment. I don’t always get it right; I really struggle to slow down at all. But there we were, on Good Friday, with him. And here we are, back to Friday, and that awareness of his presence returns. And it’s good Friday all over again.