Easter and being hungry.

This week, my church had a 24 hour time of prayer and fasting. It was a great way to keep the momentum moving toward Holy Week. Don't get me wrong, I was plenty hungry and I really wanted an English Muffin with Peanut Butter. I'm learning a lot about myself and my faith as I put a tentative foot in the water of "going without for God's sake". I'm learning that when I'm hungry, my immediate reaction is to go find something to satisfy my body's need. The interesting thing is I don't always stop long enough to really figure out what it is I need. I just want the solution to be...immediate, now, discomfort gone... Thank you very much.
Which makes me think about Easter and my view of the sacrifice. I'm feeling kind of uncomfortable walking into Holy Week this year -- like I don't really get it or something. It seems so neat and tidy, the way we Evangelicals have packaged it -- "look at what has been done for you, empty cross, empty tomb, nothing but the blood" -- all true and I'm grateful, truly... And yet, it just seems so distant. Like someone else's truth that's been figured out and handed to me -- no mess involved. Like there's a hidden component to this amazing thing that was done for me (and every other human being on the planet) and I just can't see it or figure it out or decipher it or something. Shouldn't it cost me something? So much pain for Him and none for me? Kind of like my hunger, unwrap it, consume it ...hunger gone. And yet, is it really? Paul says in his letter to the Romans, ...Don't you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?" (6:3) He goes on to write these Romans that we share in His resurrection as well. And then in another letter he tells them (and us) that the believer carries both of these with them at all times. Death and resurrection -- in me? At all times? Now that, has to cost me something. Doesn't feel like a candy bar at all...you know, not convenient and filled with empty calories. But rather -- something beautiful and painful -- all at once.

Daughters.

There are faces, just a face that can remind me that my life has a purpose I may never understand. My daughter's faces do that. Whether they're smiling or rolling their eyes at me -- I know that being their mother will define me forever. Mothers and daughters...often written about, rarely celebrated. What is it about this chemistry, this relationship, that often gets so tangled and twisted?
In the past two weeks, 2 of my close friends have adopted daughters. One traveled hours and hours across oceans and continents to gather her child unto her. To make her family whole and complete. There is no sense of "rescuing" in my friends mind, even though this sweet baby spent the first year of her life learning how to comfort herself, putting herself to sleep, and staring at the ceiling of an orphanage. My other friend, got a call in the morning, drove to the hospital in the afternoon and loaded her tiny newborn daughter into her SUV and drove home. In all the in between times she was collecting and washing and folding girl things (she's already the Mom of 3 boys). Giddiness at times getting the better of her, but again, this was not a rescue, this was a completing. Two families who were missing someone and now these girls have slipped right into the spot that was their's all along. I'm so proud of both of my friends. Two women with hearts so large in love. These two, such generous lovers of all people that they call me to be better. To be more generous with my grace, to receive love and care more gracefully, to never give up no matter how long the silence or absence has been. I think I'll start with my daughters.