When the Waters of Grief Overtake You

7/11/17

10:11 am

A year ago at this time, I received the call that Dan's body was shutting down and there was nothing more to do. His kidneys had stopped filtering the poison in his body; his blood had stopped clotting; the cancer was raging - he was stopping.

...and the waters that had been swirling at my ankles, came up to my knees...

I wasn't ready. That morning I'd told my dad I didn't want to make any more decisions. And all that followed were decisions I never wanted to make. Certainly not then, at age 36.

We spent that drive to Ann Arbor in song, in prayer, pleading for Jesus to come - when most certainly, He was already in our midst.

I arrived at the hospital and was told that Dan had a moment where he was aware and nodded that he was ready to go...now, I had to do the impossible: let him.


...and the waters of grief began to surround me, coming to my waist, then my chest...

At 11, the priest came; then the doctors. 6:30 was chosen as the time we would have our little Mass for Dan, the Last Rites.


...and everything went into slow motion. Everything feels like you're underwater. Sounds are muffled. Faces of Dan's best friends and family are blurred. Time seems to be nonexistent, yet ever approaching. 

I wanted to spend as much time in the sun that day.

...and the waters came, overtaking me into grief - into darkness and sadness,
where everything feels surreal,
where time becomes irrelevant,
where you drift along,
further and further from shore....

I never thought of that day like this until now.

Recognizing that grief feels a lot like drowning...the waters of death coming for you, too. 

Cynthia Rasmussen says that a spouse dies, too, when theirs dies. I guess, but I didn't know it.


However, upon reflection, I think it's more like baptism. We were baptized into Christ's death - perhaps then, the same with our spouse. Their death can be a baptism for us - Jesus raises their spirits to new life, and breathes a new life into our souls.

I think of my Godson, Zander's, prayer for Dan that day:
"I know Dan is about to die...can you just clear all that water out? ...but in a few days, he will be raised to life!" Somehow, that 5 year old knew about the waters of death that sweep over us.

In light of all of this, it makes sense now, how I have felt "buoyed by Hope," this past year. I have been carried along by the waters of death and grief. Sometimes threatened to be taken under, sometimes your tears leave you gasping for air - as if through crying your heart can finally breathe.

More often than not, I have felt carried along - held and supported. I knew this was Jesus, for my Hope has a foundation and a name.

As a year circles around, I am realizing that I can do more than just ride the waves of grief, held captive by them.

Dan is not held captive by death. His death has freed him to be fully united in life with Jesus Christ. He is not just a body in the ground, but a being around us.

And so, I also do not have to be captive to grief because I know the One who walks on water. I can take his hand, and through the power of Him who raised Jesus from the dead, find life again. Through Jesus, there is life and there is life abundant - no matter the circumstance.

Jesus is not an idea. He is real. He is my real Hope. He is my real Way to Truth and Life. He is Life. "In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

Fumbling Forward, Buoyed by Hope

7/9/17:

I tried to get through Mass today without crying, though I don't know why [probably that responsibility trait], which I did...though I choked back some tears during a few songs. I prayed for my father-in-law's heart to breathe, to find air, to find life.

I am now facing the rest of the day...and I am at a loss.

Tired with sorrow,
tired with grief,
tired with strength.

"Come to me,
all you who labor and are heavy burdened,
and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you,
for my yoke is easy,
and my burden light."

Pierced.
My heart feels pierced while I try to work to pass the time.
And I thought,
"I thought I had moved on from this.
I though I was healing.
I thought I was moving forward.
I thought I was ready for life,
for what comes next.
But right now, I don't ever want to move forward."

That's not true.
It's not true that I don't want to "ever"
move forward;
it's just that I didn't think forward
would sting -
I didn't think possibility
would pierce -
forward seems like
leaving something behind,
or lugging it as baggage behind you.

I don't want that.
I want my burden to be light.
I want to carry light.
I want to carry Dan's light with me into the future,
pressing on further into God's light -
(finally) letting him show me the way,
leading.

Accepting Dan as light,
recognizing him as light
is when I feel most light,
most loved, most free.

He was so heavy.
When he would sleep,
I swear every part of his body
felt ten times heavier.
He was so grounded,
So "of the earth,"
So sensory.
For that reason, it was hard to imagine him in heaven.
[Not that I thought he'd gone to hell, but where? where could he be?]

Then God showed me Dan,
transformed by love,
through love,
for love,
receiving his crown for his love.

and this fit.
Transformed Dan: by love, through love - 
the corruptible replaced with the incorruptible - LIGHT,
fully formed, at rest, at peace, HOME.

He is not what he was.
He is what we will become -
should we choose the path of transformation and light, 
by way of the Cross.

Life in the Midst of Grief: Savor the Pie

It's been a hard day. The days leading up to the 'monuments' (the days when a big thing happened) are - but, even moreso. I want to hold back tears, in order to hold on to the contentment and peace that I have felt the last few days/weeks. ...but, that doesn't lead to healing. So, for a good two hours, the tears came. They came quietly and built up into the sobbing gasp...and then, my heart breathes.

Once the tears subside, the exhaustion comes. At this point, I was hungry, so I sat down to eat my leftover cherry pie - handmade by our dear friend Jon. I planned to eat while reading...because sometimes, that's what you do when you're grieving. You try to do all the things to distract yourself.

So, while I sat to do this, I felt this urge: Savor the pie.

I was transported back to the conversation with Dan: I love that you live life because I can't.

Savor the pie.

Dan loved pie. He told me that raspberry pie was his favorite, but cherry pie was his go-to. He loved homemade cherry pies, of course - but he loved cherry pie so much that he would even eat the Hostess cherry pies. [I mean, I like pie - but I would never succumb to that. I guess I'm a pie snob. Dan was not.]

Savor the pie...because I can't.

Dan savored life, but especially food and drink. When I read through our year and a half worth of Marriage Encounter dialogues, there is a recurrent appreciation for my ...meal that I just cooked. [and, of course, I delighted in preparing those meals because it's joy to do things that are so appreciated]

Savor the pie.

So, I did. I savored the pie, enjoying the delicious interplay between tart and sweet. Each bite was appreciated and delighted in, not overlooked - not consumed as a distraction...delighted in.

Whatever your pie moment today, savor it - because you're here, right now, and this is your chance to live.

To my twenty-somethings...

Well, the time has come for me to write this post. I’ve been teaching a course focused on professional development for juniors and seniors for the past 6 weeks; I’ve advised college students for nearly 5 years; I’ve informally advised my TRIO kids as they progressed through college for 13 years. AND I’ve lived my own life. So, the time has finally come for this announcement:

NO DECISION YOU MAKE IS REALLY GOING TO SCREW YOUR LIFE UP THAT MUCH.

So, Beloved Student, just STOP. STOP with the freaking out already. STOP with the posts about panic attacks and how “grown-ups” just don’t understand the pressure you’re under. STOP ruining college by obsessing over the things that don’t matter – like every point you miss. Because why? You are missing the point.

1)      The point of college – of your freakin’ life, actually – is to LEARN. It is to GROW. To be a better person tomorrow than you are today. So you know what? No one actually expects you to have it all together? None of us expect you to know it all – and we’d like it if you would actually chill out and listen to us when we try to talk you off the ledge.

So, the next time that you miss a point because you didn’t read directions that clearly, just own it – and don’t do it next time. The next time that you get a 2.5 (or C+) on a test that you thought you understood, go to office hours and ask your professor or TA to show you what you missed. Explain to them how you understood to do it – and then pay attention to the example they give – and notice the gap from what you did to what they did.

That gap that you just noticed? That’s where learning can take place now. When you address the “dissension” between what you thought and the reality/right version is where learning can take place.

All those reflection papers you have to do about the process? Again, that is to help you acknowledge learning. The person you are at the end of the semester should be different from the beginning because you have discovered more about yourself. Processing how your writing, speaking, application of information has improved recognizes the growth – learning – that has taken place.

2)      More schooling does not help you know what you want to do with your life. If you’re not employable with a BS, what makes you think an MS will make you employable? Being employable is about experience, skills, and talents. So, get out of the library and get some experience!

3)      Your elders – parents, bosses, professors, advisors – are not unreasonable, unfeeling monsters that lack an understanding of just how “real” “the struggle is.” I. GET. IT.

I vividly remember telling my mom as a 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, and 29-year-old just how much SHE did not understand what it was like to be my age and have no idea where your life was going. Truthfully, her life was very different from mine. She married at 22, and a lovely, delightful daughter at 23 – and, to me, her life was just pretty settled after that. I don’t know that my mom ever struggled with the feelings of restlessness and unease, anxiety and doubt, like I did. Because, you know what? She made a choice and she lived it. She didn’t obsess about the goodness or badness of her decision. I imagine that she reasoned if she was really on the wrong path, God would make it abundantly clear to her.

I remember, as a 23-year-old, feeling desperate in my singleness – alone and wondering how I would ever meet that person – having dinner with an older (read: 29 or maybe 33) single person, and wondering how in the world this person could be so content. It seemed to me that would be the end of the world. (hahaha, God. I was 31 when I got married and the timing seemed just fine then)

So, I can’t speak for all the adults in your life, but I do “get it.” I completely understand the turbulent twenties, and that is why I write this post. If I could go back and tell myself one thing, it would be this:

Eliminate RIGHT or WRONG from your life plans.

The “right” college? Is a college that fits your interest and has your major.

The “right” major? Is a major that you enjoy learning about and prepares you to get a job.

The “right” job? Is a job that pays you a living wage and allows you to contribute to society (oh and benefits are a plus, too). Preferably that job is in your field – but it doesn’t have to be. It’s okay. You can get a job for a tech company and be an animal science grad – and still be engaged in the animal world.

I obsessed so much over doing the right thing and wondering if it was what God really wanted for me…and much of the time, I believe His response to me was: you have a vast space that I’ve put you in. I’ve given you talents and desires; I’ve give you My Word to guide you and My Spirit to direct you. If you are in line with me, feel freedom to choose.

If the decision you are about to make really matters to the outcome of your life – and you are about to go contrary to where that is: God will let you know.

There are many examples of God intervening in individuals’ lives throughout the Bible and lives of the saints in dramatic fashion. In one instance so far, God has also done this for me.

It was February 2008 and I was ready for a change – career change, mostly. I was 27, had just finished as Iowa MAEOPP President, and really had gotten a sense for my ability to accomplish real work. I started to get a sense not only of my calling, but of my desire to be more than what I’d thought in college.

At the beginning of January, I started reading [Journey of] Desire by John Eldredge. The premise of this book is to realize that the desires you’ve “always” had, your natural talents – those are gifts from God. You have been created in Christ Jesus for good works – and those don’t require you to divorce yourself from your self to be from God. This was a revelation from me. You mean the things that I’d always desired – to be married, to be involved in the ag community, to help others enact their potential – those could be good? Those could be used by God? He gave them to me?  Whoa. [When I was becoming Catholic, I realized this part of the beauty of the incarnation of Jesus as man.]

Fast forward to mid-February. I had a job interview to be an Upward Bound Director in Minneapolis on the 12^th; interviews for assistantships at the Ohio State University’s Student Personnel graduate program (or whatever the full name is) on the 14/15^th; interviews for Iowa State University’s Educational Leadership & Policy Studies’ assistantships. BIG deals. BIG game-changers for my life path.

One night, I woke up around 3am and could not get back to sleep. Try as I might, sleep evaded me. So, I decided to pray. I prayed for EVERYONE and everything I could think of (except my upcoming interviews), and still no sleep.

“God! Why can’t I sleep?” I demanded. I had the prompting of a thought: “What do you have coming up this week, Jessica?”

“Well, I have these 3 interviews….”

Then, this vision popped in my head:

I was in a hallway with 3 large, heavy, wooden doors – closed – in front of me. I knew what each door represented, what was behind them – and I could sense just how heavy and how closed they were.

“What would you like?”

“Ugh. I don’t know, God! Show me which one to go through!”

“Jessica, if you knew the One who was showing you these, who had the power to…”

Then, I saw it: a window appeared beside the doors. But, the window – though also closed – I could see through to a field basking in full sunlight; rolling, golden-green hills. I knew: this was my desire. This was what I really wanted. And, this could only be mine if opened by God. Only God could make this window into an open door.

“Open the window, God! God, I want you to open the window!” I cried out pleadingly.

Like that, the vision was gone. It was 5am. I was wide awake and full of energy. I knew that I would go to each of those interviews – but I would not be choosing them. I didn’t know exactly what I would be choosing – but within a day, I did. I chose to get a Master of Science in Ag Ed with an emphasis on Extension.

If I had gone to Minneapolis or Columbus, it is highly unlikely that I would be where I am today. If I had done ELPS, I don’t think I would have been happy in what I learned. I truly love learning about learning – and teaching to engage learning. ...and, who knows if I would have met Dan?

In Dan’s life, he had a similar redirection – but not quite as spiritual. He was all set to go to grad school at Colorado State and study meat science. ONE WEEK before he was to move to Fort Collins, Dr. Hogberg called and offered him the Graduate Shepherd assistantship – and he came to Iowa State instead.

So, my dear young friends: when God needs to change your path, HE WILL.

Until then, go forward with some confidence that if life was a series of do or die decisions, He would give you a blueprint. Remember that He is a loving God; He isn’t cruel. As my dad said once, “If you are faced with a series of choices – and none seem to be closed, and none are out-of-line with His plan (outlined in the Bible), and none are immoral – then, God is allowing you to use your God-given intellect and freedom to choose. So, choose with confidence.”

Lastly, I would love to urge you to find joy in this time of life.  Personally, I worried so much about how my life would turn out at times, and if I could speak this truth to me, I would. Would I have believed this sage advice? Probably not. Some things, I am unfortunately hell-bent on learning MY way – through experiencing all the feelings, and feeling all the bumps in the road – until I let God shine some light upon my understanding.

But, 14 years after being a senior in college with no life plan after August: I now see that what God has guaranteed us is this moment (and eternity). So, find the lesson in this moment. Feel the feelings – and then find the peace and the joy only found in the presence of Jesus – and just live this present circumstance.

…and above all, ENJOY COLLEGE. At the very least, listen to your friend who wants to take you out for your 21^st birthday even when you have a final the next day. That’s what college memories are made of. Right, Pam?

Spread Joy–2013 Christmas Card

I present to you our 2013 Christmas card text (written by yours truly):

'Twas the night before finals and all through the house,

not a creature was stirring - we were all tuckered out.

With Dan in his bow tie, and I in my snazzy top,

we toasted 2013 - and just couldn't stop.

The papers were graded - presentations, too!

Students gave reasons till their faces were blue.

 

It's been quite a year, two-zero-one-three.

We bought a house; Dan started his PhD.

With a new home, there's lots of projects to do,

like keeping the grass green and the pool aqua blue.

Jessica dreams up DIY projects galore:

a headboard, a mantle, a bar -- and there's more?!

Yes, thanks to Pinterest, she has many plans for this nest.

 

Though this year has had trials, we are more than blessed.

We even snuck away for awhile; we don't mean to brag -

a day up in Mackinaw and a weekend to Flag.

 

In 2014, if you need to relax or just rest your head,

we've got a pool and a comfy guest bed!

So, raise your glasses, loved ones far and near:

Merry Christmas to you and a Blessed New Year!

 

 

34 Thankful Things

 

Another year begins! [Note to readers: this list was written on my birthday – almost 2 months ago; it’s just taken me awhile to post this list. A friend of mine started this tradition on her mom’s 50th birthday – and it’s a good exercise to count our blessings on our birthdays.]

As I celebrate the start of my 34th year of life, let’s count out 34 things that I have been so grateful for this year:

1) Dan

2) Marriage to Dan – thankful for the calling to be husband and wife

3) My parents

4) My in-laws (in-love)

5) My brother

6) My siblings-in-love, and my nephews and niece

7) God’s abundant and gracious goodness

8) My faith – being Catholic and the lesson of “both/and”

9) St. Thomas More/Newman Center

10) Ministry opportunities

11) My job

12) Dan’s job

13) My preceptors – past, present, and future

14) Anne Marie

15) Michaela

16) Dan’s students (judging team kids)

17) God’s provision of our house

18) Jerry – our neighbor, knowledgeable about everything, second-dad

19) Rosary Runs

20) God’s faithfulness to never give up on me

21) Sister Elizabeth

22) Father Don

23) Barb, Steve, and Joe

24) Quiet afternoons in the sunshine

25) My co-workers – that my co-workers are my friends

26) Pool parties

27) Lisa, Jina and Lindsay

28) Amy, Jason and the Z-boys

29) Larry & PJ

30) My aunts, uncles and cousins

31) My foundation of faith: Jesus, ancestors, my grandparents, my parents and the tree I’m grafted into and their faith

32) Good conversations with students!

33) Inquiry & Jerry Meyer

34) Dan and our life in Tucson – our Tucson friends, his co-workers, and our growing community

 

As you see, this year definitely has a Tucson bend to it. One of the recurring themes from Inquiry (a session that I help lead for people with questions about Catholicism) that Jerry, our leader, continually mentions is that in many areas, Catholicism is “both/and” – not either/or, and usually not black or white. This approach to “both/and” has really helped me embrace life here in Tucson in the past year.

I don’t know that it’s in any secret that I didn’t love it here. We moved 2,000 miles from most of my family (so thankful to have an aunt, here!) and friends…into a foreign land. Sure, it’s still the USA – but spend 3-4 weeks here and you’ll know this is not Iowa, or the Midwest, anymore, Toto. Everything is different. A year after we’d lived here, I travelled back to the Minneapolis/River Falls, WI area for a conference in late June. About 20 miles outside of the Minneapolis airport, I was bawling hysterically. I had gotten used to the landscape of Arizona – the brown mountains, the expanse of light brown dirt/scrubby trees. Suddenly, my senses were affronted with the green and I remembered just how far from home I was.

This year, I have embraced the “both/and” of life. I realize that January can be both 68 and –8. I realize that fall can be pumpkin patches/apple orchards…and quiet rejoicing for temps in the upper 80s instead of the upper 90s while the season SLOWLY and SUBTLELY enters. …and, really, I realize that “home” can be both Iowa, Michigan, and Arizona. Being happy in one place does not mean that I have rejected the other.

So, these are my lessons learned from year 33/year 2013. Here’s to seeing what 2014 will bring!

Ordinary Time

Yesterday, I was thankful for an 'ordinary' day; a slower, quiet day, where I can enjoy my conversations with my co-worker/friend.

Thursday was a good day, but it was ordinary. You know? Nothing spectacular; nothing earth-shattering...it just was. Being able to be thankful for the ordinary - for the quiet, for the 'typical'...is not something easy for me. I have an expectant heart; I am always looking for the big thing (especially when I was single!), the next life event. I am learning to be thankful in 'ordinary time'...which is good since 'ordinary time' makes up so much of our lives.

Thankful for a “people”

I'm thankful to have a parish to call home: St. Thomas More Catholic Newman Center at the University of Arizona. Blessed day of thanksgiving celebrating 50 years at our campus location!

Today, the parish that Dan and I call home celebrated 50 years in a church building at the corner of 2nd & Cherry on the U of A campus. During the mass, I was just overcome with thankfulness, gratitude, and emotion for having a parish home – and for being part of the community here. I am so thankful to be part of a people.

I wasn’t really even aware of how much belonging to a people meant to me. …but, once the tears started this morning, I keep remembering and recognizing just how important it is to belong to a people.

Growing up in a small town, you become aware at an early age that you belong to a community. Within that community are smaller communities – pockets of people who belong to each other perhaps because of the church they attend, the club they belong to, their neighborhood, or by blood. Within our town, we had our church, our Country Cousins (our neighborhood group that celebrated birthdays/holidays/each other that lived in about a 2-mile radius of each other), Jaycees/Mens’ & Women's Club (for my parents), and then later, our 4-H clubs…and, of course, the friends made from school activities.

Our circles/communities grew as we grew older. The boards that my parents served on expanded our circle to the county; Adair County Pork Producers, in particular, became one of our communities. Our circle within the county subsequently expanded the more involved we became with 4-H and showing at the county fair. Then, our circles expanded because we were serving on county/area/state councils.

…and all of this…connects you to the people that you live near. The connection to one another, especially in rural Iowa, binds you. This belonging stirs a need deep in your soul – to be with one another, for one another, love and serve one another, and meet others’ needs. This belonging is part of you.

…and, outside of your community, it is hard to find again. After I graduated and was living in Ames, the ache for community was almost impossible to bear sometimes. Yet, I always could go home – where I was known and welcomed; where I belonged. Eventually, I found community in my church.

…and, today, I became aware that (finally) I am finding that – within our church, yes; and, even within the state, through Dan’s job. Yesterday was U of A’s homecoming and Dan’s School hosted a tailgate. It was great to see his co-workers – our friends, and their kids and feel…at home. It was great to connect with his former students, who feel like part of our extended family (yes, a little like our kids). It was great to connect with judging team alumni who we see at Cattle Growers Events and have real conversations.

Belonging – having a people – is so important to us, as human beings. We were made for it. Today, I was able to pinpoint what it is that has made the transition to Arizona so hard. I am without my people. Yes, YES, I have my person. My person is so vital and integral to my purpose; I am called to my person. But, we have also been called to a people. We are not just for ourselves.

Good Friday

The older I get, the more Good Friday means to me. I can't make it through a service without weeping.

The haunting chorus of "Were You There?"
The image of my Lord willingly handing himself over to be judged and convicted,
The vehement, hateful, blood thirsty cries from the crowd,
Creation recognizing the significance of the hour...

This lenten season hasn't been 'triumphant' for me. I would like to know if there are people who succeed in giving things up, or adding practices in - and the effect that being successful has on their spiritual life. Because, I am awful at it. AWFUL.

In fact, this year I recognized that I'm not really good at giving things up (and couldn't pinpoint any certain "practice" that would, if eliminated, bring me closer to God); so, I decided that I would "add something in." I decided that I would add in the practice of reading/praying/journaling 30 minutes before bed; technically, I would be giving up whatever I normally do in those 30 minutes (TV, facebook, pinterest).

Over the course of the past 40 days, I have been only slightly successful at observing that practice.
Instead what I realized about myself is that I am LAZY. I am unmotivated. I lack self-discipline. AND on top of all of that, most of the time, I'd like to just blame my husband for my lack of success in observing my Lenten practice...because that's how lazy I am. I can't even take the ownership of my own short-comings.

What did that lead to? A lot of guilt. A lot of realizing that something is missing in my heart...a desire that surpasses all others to spend time with my Lord.

So, on Good Friday, I came in with a heart full of guilt, sin, shame, and this recognition of emptiness.

In the first reading from Isaiah, I was reminded that he bore our guilt. Over and over in the passage from Isaiah, the description of the Messiah indicates that he will bear our guilt, sin - all of our iniquities.

During the service, I recognized that the man on the cross was my friend, Jesus. Unlike any other time in my life, I felt like I was observing the death of my friend. My friend, who willingly bore all of my sin; my friend, who exhibited all of the self-discipline in the world; my friend, who loved me enough to take my place. My friend, Jesus, who loves me for me - the lazy, unmotivated, imperfect, sinner - and the one who desires to do good, to inspire, to love to be more - all of me.  My friend, Jesus, died...and I wept.

I don't know what it's like to 'succeed' at your Lenten sacrificing. I do know what it's like to come up short (fail). I do know that on this Good Friday, my friend met me at the cross. 

I also know that I look forward to reconnecting with this friend....

Holy Thursday

The concept of a "Holy Week" is pretty new to this girl, raised Protestant and a new Catholic. Protestants don't make too big of a deal about Good Friday - but certainly do about Easter. So, last week when several of my students informed me that they wouldn't be in class today because it's Good Friday, I wasn't sure how to respond.

Growing up, Good Friday was an optional evening service. Granted, my family almost-always attended and that observance was very special. I can strongly remember Good Friday services, whereas I struggle to remember most others. Growing up, the only time off you needed for the observance was from about 7-8:30 pm. So, as my students requested that day off from class, I wondered, "How is your observance different from mine?"

I admit that even as a Catholic (though, one year in makes me still more familiar with the 'old way' not the 'new'), I didn't quite understand why these students would need to miss my class at 10 am. I read the bulletin; I could see that most of the "festivities" didn't really start until noon. I was skeptical. Were they just trying to skip out? (I should admit, though, these are some of my better students, so I was fairly sure they weren't just trying to skip.)

Enter: Holy Thursday. (aka my Holy Week Epiphany)

Growing up, the Thursday before Easter was just a Thursday. In high school, we had a new pastor who brought us "Maunday Thursday," and we'd have a great big feast at church (with some amazing peanut butter pie) and usually have a re-enactment of 'The Last Supper.' Once at college, the church I belonged to treated the Thursday before like...Thursday.

Even last year as a month-in-Catholic, I didn't attend Holy Thursday service. Why? Because I was swamped? Had things to do? Because my 30-year-engrained Protestant brain didn't recognize the significance? (yeah, that one)

For my non-Catholic friends out there (which are most of you), let me give you a little insight into Maunday Thursday (aka Holy Thursday). The term "maunday" is derived from the "mandate" that Jesus gave to his disciples at the last supper - love one another, as I have loved you; as I have served you, and humbled myself to wash your feet, so you should do the same for others. We also recognize on Holy Thursday the institution of the gift of the Eucharist - the body and blood, broken and shed for us.

As I worshipped, contemplated, and participated in the mass last night, I was struck by the invitation Jesus extends to us to partake of Himself, to become one with Him, to share with Him all things. Our old testament reading was from Exodus describing the time of the passover. The Israelites were to partake, but be ready to be called to go at a moment's notice. I thought, "How prepared am I to go when called? I need to be prepared to listen and go whenever I partake in the eucharist."

As I prepared to receive, I thought of Jesus - prior to being nailed to the cross - his body bleeding, whipped, bruised - broken - for me. His blood was being poured out for me. Now, He has invited me to share in this; in Him; in His act of love.

What does He ask in return?

At the end of service, our choir sang these words, "Remain with me; watch with me; stay with me," over and over again. With each strain, the words seemed to plead stronger, "Watch with me, stay with me." This was Jesus request of His friends. In His final hours, He asked his friends to just be near him; be close; watch; be here; be with me.

Can I be a friend to Jesus? Can I stay near him in his hour of need and suffering?
...or are the cares and duties and responsibilities of my life pulling me away?
For today, can I watch, and pray, and stay?



In that moment, I got it. I understand the desire to use Good Friday as a chance to block out the other distractions and focus on our Lord; to be near Him in His suffering; to watch; to pray.

May God bless you as you ponder His sacrifice of love for you today.