What was it like on a Friday in Jerusalem almost 2,000 years ago?
Did the scent of budding and blooming life mingle with the metallic tang of His blood?
Was the air filled with the songs of birds before the darkness enveloped the city?
Ironic - the Creator allowed His creation to use His raw materials to crucify Him.
He stayed on the cross, held by puny metal nails.
Did the angels hover by the throne of the Almighty, begging with their eyes, hoping for a sign or a word that would release them to help Him?
The earth quaked.
Did the doves mourn?
What was it like for the Light of the world to have been cut off from the blinding Light of His Father's face?
The source of Life's life slowly, painfully ebbed away with each pump of His strangled heart.
The Wonderful Counselor was alone. No one to share His grief, or hold His head or hand and whisper, "there, there."
He did this for a small handful of worthless creatures who would choose to love Him.
He died my death, that day on the cross.
Then came Sunday morning.........and the rising of the Son.
He called me out of the darkness, and calls me His bride.
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.