Friday’s photo: ready

Today’s photo is taken in the entrance hall of our home where we have been getting ready for Easter. 

The round table on which everything rests belonged originally to my Mom but when I got married it became mine because it was the just-right size to fit in our little dining room with four chairs around it. Over the years, it has been gnawed upon by puppy dogs and punctured by pencils as the boys did their homework at it. Every time I look at it I smile because it makes me think of Enid Blyton’s “Enchanted Table.” Now retired, it has found new purpose marking the seasons and offering welcome as people come through our door.

In the background are bright symbols that remind me that this is a time of joy. I remember how much fun we had has children hunting Easter eggs in the garden – and the even greater fun I had hiding them for my own. I think of family traditions like Sunday’s roast lamb and hot cross buns at Oudi’s house on Good Friday, and church traditions like gathering together to make hundreds of Palm crosses or huddling beneath Calvary’s cross (yes, that really was the name of a dear community in which I worshipped, and yes, it really did have a beautiful outdoor cross) an hour before sunrise in the gloomy cold as we waited together for the light to dawn. Light. New life. A world made new. I am SO ready for that.

On the left are images from a Godly Play story which hold before me how truly human and how deeply loved Jesus was. The One who suffered alone on the cross was a blessing to the world: a son, a brother, a student, a carpenter, a friend, a teacher before he showed himself to be our Saviour. As I make ready to enter Holy Week, I reflect on the fact this is not some ancient story about some distant God but a word about love and pain and death and hope that so many need to hear … that I need to hear again.

Finally, on the right this year I have added a basin of water and a towel because the story of Pilate washing his hands of Jesus sits heavy within my heart in this time when hand washing has taken on such practical significance. I wonder who I have washed my hands of, kept at a distance, avoided because the personal cost in time and energy might be too much. Yet, as I dip my hands into the cool water, I feel myself washed clean. 

As we get ready to enter into this special season in our homes this year, I would like to encourage you to create a space for the symbols that help you connect with the story, with some of your memories of Easters past, and with the people who have sat with you in the darkness and waited for the light.

Yours in Christ,
Yvonne