I have a "thing" about daffodils, probably Because Grandma had planted the Bulbs along the edge of our yard next to The gravel road. They proliferated. I loved them. I remember picking a bouquet for my Teacher and carefully transporting the Flowers in a canning jar on the school bus. Several years ago I was excited to find the Yellow blooms lining the lawn of an Abandoned farmhouse near my condo. I helped myself and filled several vases with The flowers. But alas! The farmhouse was razed and the Land cleared. Coming back from Florida it seemed like Daffodils were blooming everywhere, But on private property. How happy Danny and I were to spy Clumps of the flowers hidden in the Wooded area behind our house! Who could have planted them? A farm wife? A squirrel? Danny exchanged his church clothes for Old apparel and pushed his way through the Thorny underbrush. He returned with a handful of the precious Yellow posies. (Along with muddy shoes.) I gushed my appreciation to my dear Husband as only I could gush. Danny's gift was one of love and labor, A perk that brought back poignant Daffodil memories, a perfect perk for Easter day. |
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I've been thinking about the
Cross, an integral part of Easter and our Christian faith. It was the Roman's method of Capital punishment. The roads were lined with Hundreds of crosses exposing Wretched dying souls, a Warning to bystanders to Submit to authority. But why do we hang the Torture device in the front of Our church over the baptistry? Would it be like displaying a Guillotine, or a noose, or a rifle, Or an electric chair, each a Method of execution? The very idea is repulsive. But the cross is even more Repulsive, and yet it graces the Wall of our church, a stark Symbol of Jesus' grace. He was executed in my place. Have I become immune to its Meaning? I can't comprehend the Horror and the glory of the Cross.
I wonder whether it pained Jesus to
Choose Judas as one of the Twelve knowing what the Betrayer would do. I wonder whether He was tempted to Spill the secret to the rest of His Disciples. I wonder whether Jesus wept over Judas as He did Jerusalem. I wonder whether it troubled Jesus To serve Judas at the last supper, To offer him the bread and wine and Wash his feet. I wonder whether Jesus resisted The hypocrite's kiss. I wonder how Jesus could treat Judas like the others knowing What He knew. The cashier at the Dollar Store wasn't
Standing, but sitting in her walker. I assisted her by placing my items on The conveyor belt within her reach. "Thanks," she said. I complimented her on her Sparkly cap and asked, "Are you Looking forward to Easter?" "Yes. But for me, Easter is Every day," she answered. "For me too," I said. We sensed that we were "sisters" Despite our different skin tones. "He must increase but I must Decrease," the lady said. "Guess what!" I told her. "I wrote a poem about that verse," and I quoted it for her: "He must increase, but I must decrease. It's a process I must refine. It means using my breath to inflate His Balloon and sticking a pin in mine." "I love it," she said. And we couldn't help but praise Jesus at The check out at the Dollar Store, not Minding the onlookers. I went into the store to buy Easter Cards. But my sweet sister reminded me That I should celebrate the empty Tomb every day, not just on Easter Sunday. "Did you have a nice Easter?"
I expected the young man to say, "Yes." (The fellow is a cashier at the Wendy's drive thru and we've Become acquainted.) But his response was, "No." "Oh, why not?" I asked. "Two days before Easter my Best friend died." "Oh no! What happened?" "We don't know why he died." "I'm so, so sorry," I replied. He told me his friend's name. "I'll pray for his family," I said, and The tract I handed him seemed to Be appropriate: "Life Isn't Fair." The young cashier was carrying on As usual, taking orders over the Intercom and collecting money. I wouldn't have known. I wouldn't have known that his Heart was broken if I hadn't asked a Simple question. If the resurrection isn't true,
Lots of people have been Fooled. But if it IS true, lots of People will wish they hadn't Been. And either way, we win. He is risen! He is risen indeed! She's 83
But the Easter story seemed to Be new to her. Since her hearing and vision are Poor, I related the account slowly and Loudly. I described the last supper, The garden, The betrayal, The scourging and crucifixion. "They tortured Him?" She asked. "Yes. It happened on a Friday, a Really bad Friday," I told her, "But in the end, it turned out to be Good, all because of Sunday." Yes! The empty tomb! The resurrection! The best possible news! I felt moved to ask her. "Have you ever asked Jesus to Forgive you for your sins?" "No." "Would you like to do it now?" "How do I know He would forgive me?" "Because the Bible says so." My friend was ready. She prayed a simple sincere prayer, And now we're sisters, not just Friends. She's going with me to church tonight. It's our Friday service that we call "Good," good only because we know Sunday's coming.
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Dorothy Kalb Hsu Seitzinger
Writing poetry has helped me process and express my sorrows and joys, my concerns and blessings. "Life is hard, but God is good!" Archives
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