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Jesus didn't die on this.

Jesus didn’t die on this.

Cotton candy trees
Cherry blossoms, pink and white
Lacy, pale and soft

Today is Good Friday.  And it’s *really* good here.  It’s sunny.  It’s pushing 60 degrees.  The cherry trees, all of a sudden, have fully bloomed.  They’re uptown and downtown and all around and yet they all open at the same time.  It’s sort of miraculous.  Are they all interlinked in a sort of flowering-tree underground network?  I want to know.

The kids got out 3 hours early again today, a decent headstart on spring break.  I picked Ruby up and we headed to the dollar store.  I was looking for something very specific, which they didn’t have.  Ruby, consummate saver, had money to burn.  She wanted to buy “toys”.  Generally, dollar store toys are crap.  Pardon my French.  Actually, that particular word sounds much better in French, but I digress.  I tried to steer her away from buying anything she might like to touch repeatedly, since these plastic items tend to break upon contact.  No dice.

She bought a bunch of stuff:  scotch tape 2-packs(one for her and one for us), two pudding packs, a butterfly pen, a wind-up yellow chick, a stick-bird-thing with bright blue feathers and a beak (quickly passed to her friend), a plastic bag full of multicolored plastic Easter eggs.  In all, she spent just over $9.  Not a princely sum, but  a lot for a 7-year-old.

We got home, after picking up Zac from school.  He stayed after to finish up an essay and the consequent bibliography.  He devoured his lunch in the car while we finished our errands.  Finally, we headed home.

I sat down here, intending to write about Good Friday and the great gift of Jesus’ suffering that set us free.  I intended to wax eloquent about His humanity and how he felt our pain and separation while He hung on the cross.

Ruby came up to me.  I stifled a sigh.  Foiled again.

“Mom, I want to give this to Zac,” she said.  She held up a yellow rectangular package.  In the package was a cross, embellished with lilies and flourishes, made out of milk chocolate.  I didn’t even remember her buying it.  And I’m not certain they’re sanctioned by the church.  So don’t tell anyone.

My heart melted, much like chocolate.

“I need a bag,” she finished.

I kissed her little head and we hunted up a gift bag.

Again, I am reminded of Jesus’ gift of salvation.  We didn’t even know we wanted it, needed it desperately – but He gave it anyway.

Zac doesn’t “need” the chocolate, but it’s a tangible reminder of a little sister’s love for her big brother.  Zac will remember Ruby’s gift  long after it’s gone.  Just like every Easter, we remember Christ’s love for us.

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