15 days ago...

The boys and I played with sidewalk chalk on Good Friday.

The air was moist, sticky on our skin.
The chalk against the concrete seemed to melt vibrancy into our creations.

Names first, middle, and last scribbled.
Trains sketched.
Noah's Arc.
Scattered colors.
Cheeks smeared with chalk.

I drew this.

He was heavy on my heart that day.
He?
Jesus.

And within an hour's time, torrential downpours commenced.
The southeast experienced severe weather.
Tornado touchdowns.
Destruction.
Even some deaths.

I was actually on my way back from my local fabric store in Kenny's truck. Windows up and pellets of rain pouring vehemently down, I heard the strangest howling noise.

It was the Chattanooga area's weather siren.

Immediately, I clicked on the radio only to hear:

"Take cover. Stop driving. Get in a bathtub. Stay away from windows."

Freaked and under control ironically at the same time, I called Kenny. The power was out at our home and he and the kids were safe. Together, he slowly talked me through the storm as I gave him updates on the weather forecast and where tornadoes were hitting.

I made it home.

Limbs down and leaves scattered like the toys in the boys' bedrooms was the extent of our damage. Our imperfect scribbles, scratches, and drawings had vanished; gone forever with the storm. We were without power for almost 24 hours after that.

In that space of time sans sewing machine humming, dishwasher drumming, and light flicking amid the wrestle play fights by candlelight and the snuggles in bed listening to the rainfall, I reflected on my today...

No paper needed as my thoughts seemed to tattoo my very mind and soul:


-The air was moist; sticky on our skin.
-He was heavy on my heart that day.
-He?
-Even some deaths.
-And within an hour's time, torrential downpours commenced.
-Our imperfect scribbles, scratches, and drawings had vanished; gone forever with the storm.
-Freaked and under control ironically at the same time...
-He was heavy on my heart that day.
-Take cover.
-Jesus.
-The chalk against the concrete seemed to melt vibrancy into our creations.
-I made it home.


And there it was, my words right before me. The story of Easter.

His pain, the heaviness of his struggles
[The air was moist; sticky on our skin.
He was heavy on my heart that day.]

People gathering to see this miracle worker slain.
[He?]

His death on the cross.
[Even some deaths.]

The curtain to the Holy of Hollies ripping; the Earth shaking.
[And within an hour's time, torrential downpours commenced.]

Our sins forever forgiven with His blood.
[Our imperfect scribbles, scratches, and drawings had vanished; gone forever with the storm.]

Compelled, inspired, a desire to know him more...his body in the tomb.
[Freaked and under control ironically at the same time...]

Mourning His death likewise mourning my soul for its imperfections.
[He was heavy on my heart that day.]

Accepting His place forever in my heart and temporarily with His Father in Heaven,I am covered. Wrapped in His love forevermore as in the tomb His body was not found.
[Take cover.]

He is here for all of us to do just that.
[Jesus.]

With Jesus, my life is more vivid, more alive.
[The chalk against the concrete seemed to melt vibrancy into our creations.]

I am His. Kept. Saved. Forever.
[I made it home.]


And there is no place I would rather be. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for the many blessings you give, the wisdom you share, the glory You are through us all. It is a privilege to know you more and more everyday.

15 days ago symbolically.
Forevermore internally.

.mac