Feels like we leapt from January to May around here.
Flipped the calendar to May, then flung flannel sheets into the laundry.
Surely, the worst is over.
January’s taken sick leave.
We’re sick of January.
Driving to physical therapy, I noticed a hopeful sign posted at the entrance to Wolf Hill Nursery: “We’re so excited Spring’s here, we’ve wet our plants!”
Trees, shrubs and flowers stretch, lifting winter-bowed limbs towards warmth.
Reminds me of the story of two weary Jesus’ followers, trudging from Jerusalem to Emmaus, wrestling aloud with what they knew, a dead Jesus, and confusing tales relayed by women of an alive Jesus.
“Suddenly, Jesus himself came along and joined them and began walking beside them. But they didn’t know who he was, because God kept them from recognizing him.”(Luke 24: 15-16 NLT)
As the story goes, two stuck-in-January-Jesus-folks can’t seem to get enough of this stranger. They beg him to stay.
“As they sat down to eat, he took a small loaf of bread, asked God’s blessing on it, then gave it to them. Suddenly, their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And at that moment he disappeared! They said to each other, ‘Didn’t our hearts feel strangely warm as he talked with us on the road…’ “(Luke 24:30-32 NLT)
Suddenly, winter’s on meltdown.
The touch of nail scarred hands blessing and breaking bread warmed more than one loaf.
Some Sundays we sing, when invited to communion, “Be known to us, Lord Jesus, in the breaking of the bread.”
And, not altogether unlike two trekkers to Emmaus, we stunned, confused, doubtful believers, wounded in places God only knows, lift winter-weary limbs towards warmth, cup our hands and hope to know and be known by the One who breaks, then blesses more than bread.
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