We were getting my backyard ready for a necessary extension of the drain pipe that is on the back of my house. This is in addition to loads of dirt that keep showing up in hopes that we can make the backyard level.
I've actually enjoyed the project. Before it was finished there were four garbage cans ready for pick up on yard trash day.
As I have been working I've thought of the fact that we are just a few days away from what we now know as Palm Sunday. According to Scripture, it was a day of celebration and proclamation as people lined the streets with palms and even their cloaks paying homage to Jesus as He rode a donkey through the town.
As I snipped the fronds off of the Palm I wondered about the process for securing the palms that were strewed in front of the kingly procession.
I have always loved Palm Sunday. I love the pageantry, the celebration, the music. Each year I listen again and again to "The Palms" by Jean-Baptiste Faure. I have a special memory of the Junior Choir singing that with the Adult choir at Glendale Community Church when I was in the third or fourth grade. I remember that we carried palms.
Back to my Sago Palm.
Yes, I know that sometimes we need to take the growth away to make room for new growth to come forth. (You might remember how aghast I was when my yard man pruned my crepe myrtle). And by that same token, I do know that sometimes we need to remove something from our lives to make room for something else.
One of my Lenten Disciplines for years has been to take a piece of clothing from my closet each day for 40 days and then give those clothes to an organization that would provide clothes for those who need them. An interesting thing this year is that I realized sometimes I need to give something I really liked instead of what I didn't. That's where the sacrificing comes in. So some of the shoes I really liked - have made their way to the bag.
And now Lent 2022 is about to be a memory. Holy week begins with the swaying of palms and the words from Scripture that are referred to as "the Passion". I first experienced the reading of the Passion when Rich Suhey and I went to Mass at the Basilica in St Augustine in 1997. It meant much to me then and continues to. The music, the discipline, the tradition - all are part of what is a wonderful season. Two years ago I added this tradition:
Holy week begins with celebration - ends with desperation and defeat - only to be met with celebration - when the sun rises on Easter morning and we all respond - The Lord is Risen indeed -
But I'm getting ahead of my story. . .
May your life have enough sunshine
to make you appreciate the shadows
.
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