Today was truly the Sabbath. Blessings followed blessings followed blessings. The best one was a visit from Mama Mickey. A post from January 2013 resurfaced today. It was a video of my mom that I had posted on her birthday before I retired from teaching. Since I don’t believe in coincidences, I think she was letting me and my daughter know that she loved our “GrandmaMickey Day” with the Grands yesterday. I am doubly sure that she and Dad were laughing as hard as they coudl as they watched the hubby getting “dressed-up” in her old stuff. (What we do for love and our Grands!) The wilderness of my life became lush with a fountain of living water.
If we’re lucky, the “wildness” of this life becomes tolerable as our parents share their waters of their “fountain”. Later, as we journey away from their fountain, we drink from other fountains. Sometimes the water is okay. Sometimes, the water clouds our vision with invisible minerals that we do not percieve. And sometimes…sadly…the water slowly poisons us until the body can not function at all. Parched and dying, the spirit shrivels into the crevices of the physical body waiting for that one drop of “life”.
“Yeshua stood, and he proclaimed and said: “If a man is thirsty, let him come to me and drink.Everyone who trusts in me, just as the scriptures have said, rivers of living water shall flow from within him.” ~Jn 7:37b-38(ABPE)
Holy Week began today. Chruches around the world celebrated the one day when the people crowded around the fountain and reached out their hands toward its water. If the people were anything like we are – some of them actually drank of the water in that fountain. The spirit within revived and flourished with its richness. Others reached for the fountain put didn’t have the courage to drink the water. Instead, they let it dribble through their fingers where it fell upon the earth. Had their spiritual eyes been opened, they might have noticed the blossoms that bloomed in the dust at their feet, but instead they moved on – trampling the tender blossoms beneath their feet. And some, stood at the back of the crowd. Their hands hanging limply at their sides as they scoffed at the others who drank from the fountain.
Holy week is a time to return to the fountain and look deeply into its waters. Sometimes the water is still, quiet and peacerful. Other times, the waters roll and sparkle with bubbly crests of gaiety. Still other times, the waters are troubled and fearfully dark with storms. But – if one is brave enough to push through the crowd, reaching their hand deep into the waters to drink from it, they will find the waters in this fountain are all embued with LOVE….passionate… personal… eternal… living waters.
The fountain is there. The rest is up to you.
(google images of Loudonville, Mohicanville, OH)