Thanks to Heather in Hendrickville for letting me blatantly pirate most of her good Friday musings…

 

In between the sips of Starbucks and soul talk

listening to the boys flinging mud with their friends

making PB&Js

and again when Joseph’s fell

I kept on thinking…

How thankful I am for this life.

It’s messy

full

imperfect

even a little chaotic at times

but I’m thankful.

Grateful really

for my friend in the kitchen

laughing

talking

helping

loving each other.

Had it not been for another Good Friday long ago, I wouldn’t have these friends

this family

these people

in my life

because had it not been for that Friday

I would be mean

unloving

unlovable

uninterested in matters of the heart

too consumed with myself to enter into life with others.

In between scrubbing off mud again and again

comforting a child

watching Sharky emerge from a long nap

I kept on thinking…

About my boys

My husband boy

and my little boys

all the boys that I love.

It’s odd how one moment your hands can be wiping mud from a bucket

and then the next moment your mind can fly off

across oceans and across the street

and look into the faces of the people who mean the most to you.

One minute you’re swirling peanut butter

The next minute your heart can feel so much love

that you think it might pop

Thankful.

Grateful really

for my family

my home

my Rich

my three sons

my rescued dog

my soul friends.

Had it not been for another Good Friday long ago, I wouldn’t have these boys to love

this family

these people

in my life

because had it not been for that Friday

I wouldn’t be busily making sandwiches and searching for one more juice box

imagining my sons with smiles on their faces Easter morning

and mud in their hair today.

I’d be busy being foolish

destroying

my home

and everyone in it.

Had it not been for another good Friday long ago, I would be lost

clamoring

left

to sit in hopelessness

my mounds of sin

piles

really

aching for more meaning from this life

knowing there was more

living as a slave

to myself.

I’d rather think of anything

than who I’d be apart from that Friday.

In between the mud and the PB&J and the soul talk

I kept on thinking

what a good Friday it is…

what a Good Friday it was.

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