A Sense of Wonder

When I became a mother something I wanted to share with my children was a sense of wonder. On Easter morning I would wrap them up in blankets and we would sit together on the porch steps looking towards the East waiting for the Sun to rise. The mornings were cool and we would all cuddle close together under the blankets. We were all filled with quiet,

We would watch the Sun take possession of the sky like a groom coming out of his wedding chamber. We would listen to our world as it responded to the awakening of the day. Then, I would ask, "Do you think it was a morning like this?" I would free my hands from the warmth of the blanket and open the Bible and read the story of when Mary Magdalene went to the tomb blinded by grief. We talked about what it must have been like to have her eyes open as Jesus called her by name.

From my earliest memories I have read the Bible with a sense of wonder. Perhaps it began when I was a little child cuddled up in the bed with my Grandmother. I could feel the beating of her heart and the rise and fall of her chest as she took each breath. Her love and passion for God's Word encircled me in the mystery that this book unlike any other was alive. When she read to me about Jesus her voice became tender and I would close my eyes and wrapped in her embrace I would let the words penetrate into the depth of my being.

Once when I was a teenager I went to see my Aunt Ellen. My mother had told me that she was dying and this would be my last chance to say goodbye. I slowly opened the door to her hospital room; it was filled with a deep quiet. She gave me a welcoming smile and invited me to sit beside her bed. Then she said,"Sarah, I want to pass to you the baton my mother passed to me. The Bible tells us that one day Jesus will return. My mother taught me to watch for his return and I have. Now it is your turn. Watch." This was the last time I saw her. Her words filled my soul with a sense of wonder.

This morning I woke up before the Sun and bundled myself in the warmth of my blanket. My memories drew my now grown children close to me. In the quiet I could hear the echo of my grandmother's voice reading to me again the story of the Resurrection. With my chair facing East I watched as the Sun arose and I remembered Aunt Ellen's last words and the promise they held. I am filled with a sense of wonder as I remember what Jesus said when he was on trail and the High Priest asked him if he was the Messiah the Son of the Blessed One. He said, "I am, and you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven." With a sense of wonder I whisper, even so come now Lord Jesus.