Palm Sunday at Home

and yet here it is Tuesday!  Tell me how that happened!

The story of our Palm Sunday Adventures will be on my sister-blog Mystic-Mom for those who wish to tour over there.  This is the story I was starting to write when I realized God had other plans for me than those I had made!


Let me say here, at the outset, that I've learned some things in my life.  One is when you listen God speaks.  The trick is to be quiet enough to hear Him. My road that Sunday morning was paved thick and smooth with good intentions!  Church with friends, early Palm Sunday service.  We had it all planned and we were excited.

Scroll back to Saturday night - little man was up late and then he was up in the night and Mama never the morning person was so tired that she finally awoke to PANIC because no one can get ready and gone in 15 minutes.  And to arrive rushed and out of breath seemed to be wrong on this Palm Sunday.  A quick text and then at least a little smooth path for some devotional time.

No, not a chance, because our neighbor (bless him!) came to help feed the animals.  It was he who found my Lord's reason for keeping me at home.  A newborn calf.  Tiny. Helpless. Cold in the wind and pellets of snow.  Barely seen in the pile of hay.  Alone. No other cows near by.

Thank you, Lord! For keeping us home.  For ensuring that we found this sweet new life.  For I know that she too is precious to Him.Thank you for ensuring I could hear You!

As I was sitting and waiting for my ever patient husband and our cattle dog to bring the cows up I prayed, I thought about Palm Sunday when Jesus was riding on that young donkey.  This is the post I wrote, huddled up next to a calf, behind a bale, in the wind.  The last place I thought I'd be after planning something so different!

Jesus knew what Palm Sunday was all about.  He knew that this was the beginning of the end...for now.  How it must have ached His heart to ride in and be cheered as a King on a colt riding to praise, songs and worship.  He knew that their hopes, their dreams their wishes for Him wouldn't be coming true this Passover.  He knew that their joy would become terror and then horror and dismay before it could be joy again.

He knew the humility of man and He knew the future of the people.  He knew the horror of the cross would take many many years to become a symbol of His peace.  The tiny fish (see my post from last Easter on this here) would be the secret sign for believers to find each other in a blood washed time.  He knew that the Sanhedrin, Pilate and Herod would all play their part in what they saw as THEIR VICTORY.

The ache of love and the dread of being wholly human to bear our sin must have been a weight on Him. Yet on that Sunday, the songs, the colt, the love in the air must have been both sweet and bitter.  A praise and a dirge.  A bright song before a dark night.  A loving embrace before a tragic parting.  The freedom to move before the weight of the whole word would rest upon a bruised and human body.

Reading a book by Jim Bishop, The Last Day of Christ, really painted a vivid picture for me.  It took me past the loose pieces of Gospel and history and wove me a moving set of images.  How much Jesus loves us that He willingly took on this task.  That He put aside everything for us.

So, there I was, sitting on the cold ground, talking to the cat and the calf, and praying.  Praying about  the wonders of Easter and saying thanks for the blessings in our lives, and thinking about that paving of good intentions.  If they only knew but couldn't.  If he could only make them understand but they wouldn't.  But we can!  We can see what Jesus did for us and we can, wherever we are, remember that Sunday.

We can celebrate it, knowing in truth what we are celebrating, unlike those people so long ago who did not really understand.  How could they?  Sometimes I wonder - how can I?  We celebrate the victory, before the battle, knowing that Jesus wins!  We celebrate the victory.  We remember the price that was paid for victory.