Coarse and heavy, the rock we placed last year now rests in the palm of my hand. My finger traces the inscription, the writing of such a young, yet wise, heart. Dayenu.
Dayenu. It was enough. Sufficient for me. Entirely undeserving and yet for me the price was paid. Ultimate, unconditional, sacrificial love... beyond understanding. Tears fall silently against dry stone.
It is time, again, for us to build our Calvary Hill. Are you looking for a fresh perspective, a hands-on way of experiencing Easter's beauty with your children? Let them cup wet earth, plant tiny seeds, build three crosses, feel the cold tomb... and watch grace grow. May your hearts open to quiet moments of awe... steeped in grace.
Broken alone... completed in Him,
Suz
A Broken Heart - Original post 3/26/10
Sometimes the blogging universe
brings unexpected gifts of friends and experiences...
gifts that can change your lens on the world.
Tucked in my inbox this week from Ann Voskamp at Holy Experience
was a link to an Easter project from Janna at Mustard Seeds.
It spoke volumes to my heart.
(Not to mention it involves mud.
Did I say I have boys?!)
My search for a fresh perspective was answered.
We would create our own hill of Calvary.
Our own rough terrain.
Our own rugged cross.
Our own cold tomb.
Our own representation of love.
The truest love.
"Ok."
"We're gonna make mud!"
The rush of feet down the stairs and to the door
sounds like a charging herd of wild animals!
(Did I say I have boys?!)
With our journey underway,
without explaining the symbolism of it all,
I outline the list of things we need.
I glance at my boys in the fish-eye mirror.
My tiny one is fast asleep.
I see my little man thoughtful...
his mind churning the possibilities.
He quickly identifies the elements of the scene.
The hill of dirt.
The tomb from the pot.
The cross of sticks.
I share how we will sprout some of our grain,
covering the hill in new life.
"Mama, on Good Friday we could put something in the tomb for Jesus,
and on Easter we could take it out."
Our hearts are stirred.
"What if we made Him out of bread," this young disciple continues,
"and dip it in grape juice?"
His body. His blood. Remembrance.
My eyes are brimming full.
We are quiet for a few moments.
Our hearts continue to stir.
"What if," I ask looking into expectant eyes.
"What if we make a heart out of the bread?"
The realization of what I had just been fed floods my heart.
Still looking into those deep blue pools.
"We will break the bread of His body."
"Oh, Mama. We'll break His heart?"
My heart feels like it just shattered.
"Didn't we son? Didn't we break His heart?"
We are quiet.
Our hearts hushed.
The tears spill over their banks.
We have made the preparations.
We have let the water flow freely over us.
We are watching new life spring forth.
We rejoice in the growth.
Susan
"These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." John 17:33
Janna, thank you. I hope you will visit Janna at Mustard Seeds for her beautiful tutorial on making a Calvary Hill and her follow-up post. With only a week needed to watch your project spring to life, this is a perfect tradition to begin with your family these last weeks before we celebrate the truest gift of love.
