Reverence

I've got an awful lot floating around in this melon of mine today. Household chores keep my hands busy, but my mind is somewhere else. Tucked next to a very dear friend's pillow, are my concerns and my prayers. She is in bed today - yes, on a day as beautiful as this she is confined to her bedroom. Fear and pain are her companions.

It happened so suddenly. One day she was fine and the next she wasn't. Day to day routine came to a screeching halt as dinner dishes and homework papers were replaced with the unbelievable pain of surgery - and then a diagnosis that seemed unbearable.

So many of her plans, her ideas of springtime have been dashed. No trip to Disneyland, nothing fun to speak of now. Just the cool feel of clean sheets and a good book. Contentment reigns where restlessness once lived. She spends hours in silence, looking out the window - whispering a silent plea. Please God, more time.

I speak not of the protagonist in a good novel, nor the lead actress in a daytime movie. This brave heart, this champion I speak of is one of my favorite people in the whole world - my friend Debbie. She is everything I could ever hope to be. Strong, courageous, discerning and so funny. A snapshot of surrender, a portrait of beauty.

My thoughts fade from her, and onto the One who holds her this day. His strong arms cradeling her weary heart. The sweetness of His presence quieting her fears. In prayer, I stand beside my friend echoing the same plea. Please God, more time.

This Friday before Easter is indeed - very good. A silver lining surrounds every cloud. This has always been Debbie's take on things. Today is no different. As I picked up the phone to dial her number this morning, my phone call was met with optimism not defeat. The storm that rages may be fierce, but as Debbie has said from the first twinge of pain, "Our God is bigger."

This Good Friday, remember to thank God for the simple pleasures in life. A trip to the store, preparing a meal, going for a walk. I cannot say it enough - every breath is a gift.

Jesus gave you this breath, and that one, and that one too . . . as He breathed His last. His surrender on a tree calls for a tread of reverence -- and for trust of the greatest kind.

Sunday will come.