We didn’t wait for Sunday

Today was Good Friday.

A day set aside for quiet reflection, for standing at the foot of the Cross, for remembering that suffering is real and that God’s love is made manifest in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

And for our family, this isn’t just something we reflect on abstractly this year. Just a few short weeks ago, we felt like we were living it all in real time. 

The pain.
The sorrow.
The complete lack of control.
God’s presence. 

The BMT was horrific. No child should have to endure what EvanMarie endured in those gruesome chemo side effects. But it’s her best shot at healing. 
No mother or father should have to witness their child in so much pain. It really really sucked. And yet… this suck, this cross, might be my best shot at healing. 

Our wholeness must include the cross. 

And yet, today… I woke up feeling not wanting to wait until Sunday to celebrate the resurrection. Today is different than that Calvary of the 8th floor. Today, we are at home in the front yard. Today I’m watching EvanMarie giggle and twirl in her pink sparkly dress, laughing as she shows me how fast she can run and how proud she was when she got up on her scooter. 

Today, her personality, her spunk, her humor, her wonderfully opinionated and judgy self has fully returned.

We are back baby!

And this… this feels like resurrection.

Not fully. Not completely. Not finished.

But real and true. And worthy of a party. 

I’ve reflected before that flowers don’t always grow on the mountaintops, they grow down in the valley. And that last stint at Texas Children’s was a deep, deep valley. But now we are seeing those flowers.

Small, beautiful, wild! Signs of life pushing green and yellow and blue and purple, through the fertile soil of all of this suffering.

And to be honest, part of me wants to hesitate with this sensation of consolation today. 

There’s a voice that says: Wait. It’s only Good Friday. Stay here. Don’t move too quickly to the joy.

It’s wicked that I would think that somehow, celebrating today would be doing Holy Week all wrong. Agh! Scrupulous much?

Bleh. Not this year. 

Because through this difficult experience, I’ve been reminded again, the Paschal Mystery is not something we visit once a year. It’s already here. It’s now. And it’s not yet. 

It is something we can live everyday and long for its completion in us. 

The Cross and the Resurrection are not separate moments on a liturgical calendar, they are happening together, right now, Sacramentally present at the altar and in our wild and ordinary lives.

Suffering and joy.
Death and life.
Tears and laughter.

All in the same day. Sometimes in the same hour.

So if today we laugh…
if today we celebrate…
if today I even hide a few Easter eggs for our sweet baby daughter…

it is not a rejection of the Cross at all.

It is a recognition that resurrection has already begun.

God is not bound by time.

He was.
He is.
And He is to come.

And so this Good Friday, we remain at the Cross. But, we also dare to notice the beautiful wild flowers growing in this valley.

Love is here.
Joy is here.
God is here.

Jesus, we trust in You.
Jesus, we surrender ourselves to You.
Take care of everything.

Cheers and Happy Easter everyone! 

PS: This video says it all. This is our girl running through the skybridges of TCH in between her 9 (!) appointments on Tuesday. She is the most adorable and brightest light in this place. A living witness to true Easter joy.

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