Matthew 28:1-8
Now after the Sabbath, as the first day of the week began to dawn, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to see the tomb. And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat on it. His countenance was like lightning, and his clothing as white as snow. And the guards shook for fear of him, and became like dead men.
But the angel answered and said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified.He is not here; for He is risen, as He said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. And go quickly and tell His disciples that He is risen from the dead, and indeed He is going before you into Galilee; there you will see Him. Behold, I have told you.” So they went out quickly from the tomb with fear and great joy, and ran to bring His disciples word.
I went to bed last night with anticipation. The alarm was set for 4:00am. In the still dark of our bedroom I relive the story. I was waiting & full of The Promise. I wake everyone & we shiver in the chilly air as we get ready to greet this day. We are in pajama's & sweatshirts & bedhead hair. We take 2 cars this time because we all go as a family to see the sunrise far from here. We drive in the quiet while Nocona hums from the way back of the van. We drive north; we are alone on the highway. We get to Old Salem & there is a stirring in my spirit. I see the sign for God's Acre & it calls me as if it too has been waiting for me all this time. We straggle out & begin the walk, Kalani skips over the brick sidewalk, always my morning girl. We follow the throng of people also going on this journey toward new day. I feel a kinship with the women & men & families who are making the trek with us. I want it to be something amazing. I want it to fill me so my eyes brim with tears & my heart aches. I want my family to see it with me. We get to the commons & we wait.The air is crisp & the sky is clear. The stars begin to twinkle Goodnight to the day. The shadows are long in front of me. I love this morning. They passed out sugar cakes & coffee to us along the way & the cinnamon & coffee smell fills the air around me. The church bell rings & we wait. When the service begins a hush comes over the crowd. The bands begin to play & the air swirls with the sound of it. They echo back over the streets down to the graves & back up again. The minister speaks, he shares the Gospel message & then we walk to God's Acre. It is here that I begin to unravel. My throat aches. I look ahead & all I see is people. I look behind & all I see is people. We walk this laden
promenade quietly & the music plays & my face is wet. I am reminded of what the Bible says in:
Revelation 7:9-12
After these things I looked, and behold, a great multitude which no one could number, of all nations, tribes, peoples, and tongues, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, saying, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!” All the angels stood around the throne and the elders and the four living creatures, and fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, saying: “Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom. Thanksgiving and honor and power and might. Be to our God forever and ever. Amen.”
I see it then, the bigger picture. I feel alive. I can see all of us walking toward the king. The tomb is empty & He is risen! I feel overcome with all of this. I am so thankful that I have come! The birds are singing their morning song of praise along with the music that echos back over the graves from the bands playing. There is a great group of people who stream into the cemetery. The graves are laid in even rows, all the same & washed white with bleach for this morning. We stand near the baby graves & I feel as if I am home; all the tiny stones in rows, all the words that move me. It is beautiful. The bands come closer to God's Acre. The skyline is pale blue. I wait for sunrise.
The last time I was here during Easter it was when grief was so big it was choking me. I remember we came the day they were washing all the stones; washing away a year of gray time into clean white squares. I loved the simplicity of the stones. I found the baby graves & read them all through tears. I felt a connection with all those parents who laid these little bodies here to rest. I felt their sorrow through the years. This year I feel it again. I want to read all the stones. I am weeping as I walk through the rows and I read the words. I find one that says something from the Bible. They seep into me & I take a picture of them. It says "God meant it for good" Gen. 50:20~ I rejoice in the words. I whisper them aloud & they brush my lips with Hope. I am finding it again. I know what He meant for good this time. I am surrounded by 100's of people who have all come here for something & this year I have come for rebirth & for the glimpse of Salvation & because I am part of the joy that was set before Him. Across the graves, the years roll back & forward too, through the golden rays of morning sun I see eternity. What a gift this morning was. I am surprised when I look up & see Joe holding my purse waiting for me. He is always waiting, this man of mine, I am sure sometimes he thinks I am crazy but he always waits. The rest of mine have gone out of the cemetery, they don't understand what has happened to me this early morning. Someday I know they will see it like I do. Too big for proper words. Too big for my smallness. Not too big for Father God who gives ALL good & perfect gifts & sunrise mornings. I am humbled.

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Psalm 91:4-5
He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler. You shall not be afraid of the terror by night, or of the arrow that flies by day.
Relationships. Family. Mothers. Daughters. Children.
I have been thinking about our family. I think we are blessed in the relationships we have & that are shaped here in our house. I work hard at communicating with my children. I have learned to do that; to listen to them, to really hear what they are saying. I try to find out who they are and what makes them tick. I like my children and my hope is they like me too. I decided long ago to make our bedroom a safe place. I think because growing up we weren't allowed in my parents’ room. It was something I think I missed. I remember waking up at night and being scared or sick; not daring to go in to get my mom. I would stand by the door and sort of whisper shout, "mom, mom, mom!" until my mom would get up. I would hear her feet walking across the floor to come to me. She always came. She always took care of me in those dark nights when I was small. I never was free to cross through the door though. In our house we do it differently. Our door is open. We have a crazy night life here. Sometimes there are many of us in bed at once. When the babies were small I nursed all night with the lamplight spilling out and if you were a bigger child you dragged your blankets in so you could make a bed on the floor. If you were sick you could come and sleep on the floor near my side of the bed. In our early years when I would be so tired my little ones would tiptoe around to Joe's side of the bed, he in his sleep would pull the little people in until some nights I would be falling off my side with my arm all tingly from hanging over the edge. We live in our room. Family meetings sort of happen there. Chapter books get read aloud with all of us lined up like sardines in a row, sometimes piled on top of me while I read. We write reports and sign papers. We laugh and sometimes we cry. On happy days they jump off the head board onto the mattress until some more grownup person stops them in the name of safety. As they grow things change, they leave babyhood behind. They become children. They become teenagers. Just as fast they become young adults too. Our bedroom still stays open. My children have learned if the door is locked then it is off limits for a while or something important is going on. I like that. Even the neighbor children have been in our room with the rest of the family and been part of this place. When Troy was home in December he would plop all 6 foot 3 inches of himself down by me and we would talk and he would tell me what his active mind was thinking. Lerado will come in but he usually leans against the door because he always keeps his boots on. I love these almost men who fill my heart and prayer places so often. The girls will all converge on the bed sitting indian style in a circle while we figure things out. We pray in this room and we receive grace here too. At times it is a dressing room for the plays they make up or after a day of shopping at Goodwill. I see the clothes strewn all over and part of me groans at the mess. When winter was gray for a while my room was a haven. It felt safe and it would cover me with warmth. I would not stay there because life and people needed me so I would savor that feeling while I faced the rest of the day. When Joe is gone they take turns and say, “I call dad's side!" some nights there is more than one child on his pillow. When the golden sun streams in at day break I like our room best. It is peaceful. I can lay there for a few moments alone. I know Father God sees all of this.
When Rosa came home last week she brought her own pillow this time. Her belly is big and beautiful. She shows me her stretch marks and my hands touch her swollen belly. I feel the jabs and fluid motions of her baby under the skin. We all marvel at this miracle. She brings a heating pad. She brings us joy. When night time comes she takes her place again on Joe's pillow. I am her mother. We lay there and talk small conversations till it is very late. We have Birch between us, he snores in the night. I love that she still finds our room safe. I like how she is free to sleep next to me even when she is all grow up and married. For a few nights I am privileged to sleep next to 2 generations of God's blessings on Joe and I. I am reminded of Psalms 127:3-5 where it says: "Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, The fruit of the womb is a reward, like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth. Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them; they shall not be ashamed, But shall speak with their enemies in the gate." I wake at night to find some cough medicine because I have a cold and she stumbles into the kitchen passing through to the bathroom and there in the quiet darkness of night I thank God for being so good. I thank Him for this daughter of mine who is now a mother. Who is still my little girl; who years ago would lay all her dollies out on my bed to sleep like "a whole family”. This daughter who will soon discover how wonderful mothering is. I know her bedroom will be different than mine but may it be a place where they can live and laugh and grow. Where grace is. I lay in the darkness. I hear her breathing as she moves in her sleep and her belly mound has a sliver of pale light across it. I know God sees us too, this Creator God who loves us most of all, who saw this long before time began. It is nice to have her home across the bed from me again.

I am reading One Thousand Gifts. I LOVE it. I love how her words fill me up & capture me. I love how close to my heart those words are & she is finding her Eucharisteo in which the root word is charis (grace) the definition in the dictionary is : To be grateful, to feel thankful. 2. Give thanks. I have been reading it aloud while my voice wobbles and my throat hurts. I read until there is a smile in the sound of it. I was walking with the littles in the sunshine this afternoon and I found some more to add to my list of moments of grace & thankfulness.

Eucharisteo

1. What I felt when I read one of Lerado's papers for school about Home. He wrote that it has built him up and love lives here. Inside the walls is life. I sit at the computer and I smile inside because after the hard years, it is starting to feel worth it.

2. When we pick up our computer the boy chats with me for awhile and tells me his dreams of working on cars. He is 17 and carries my stuff to the car for me like a man. We leave and Birch says "that was a nice boy mom, we should meet him again" I hope we do Birch, I hope we do.

3. On the road home where Birchy Chaney lives, there is a clothesline strung across the front yard and his 3 pair of jean overalls hang in the fading sun. I like that. We say "Hello Birchy!" and he shouts "howdy howdy!" through his long white beard. I never see anything but those overalls hanging on his line. I wonder if he goes commando.

4. After hearing a story, Nocona retells it to me. We sit on the couch and he explains how the boys dad beat him when he was small and he gets teary. He scrubs his face and hides in the couch cushion. I hug him and my throat gets a lump in it too.

5. Talking to Rosa this week, about her baking day and new house. How baby Fuzzy is giving her heartburn. I like the sound of her voice.

6. Making a meal for my friend this week. I have been blessed with giving 3 weeks in a row. 3 meals for 3 families. I get to share with Jimmy Carter too, who loves my cooking.

7. Tears from women who share with me some pretty big burdens. I am humbled that they share with me.

8. The word of God. I am reading the life of David. I love how this time I am brought back there and see him grow from shepherd boy to mighty king. He was a man after God's own heart.

9. Getting my hair done by Shawnee. It is quiet in the shop. She is peaceful while she works. She talks to me about her day. She makes me feel relaxed and beautiful when I leave.

10. Prayers. How powerful they are.

11. The fact that the neighbor children would like to be here at my house ALL the time, even when I get annoyed I count it as blessing. May we always be a light.

12. The place Jubilee thinks she will runaway too," in-case our house ever gets on fire" I love that she wouldn't want to run away except with all of us.

13. Jasmine the puppy, who is always glad to see us when we get home. She runs with her tail wagging to greet each of us individually.

14. Sweatshirts on chilly evenings and mornings too.

15. That Joe is gone this week. He calls me and we flirt on the phone and I know he is waiting to come home. The littles all sleep in bed with me and take turns on "dad's pillow"

16. Music in the kitchen. Singing along. The blue song book is worn and lies on the counter open. Demaris makes me dance. I am awkward and stiff and we laugh hard and fall on the floor together in a heap.

17. Phone calls from Troy. Today he calls and ask for prayer tonight because he is on his gypsy journey toward becoming a man. There is laughter in his voice and excitement for the adventure. He is driving to Dakota. I know God keeps the night watch.

18. Kalani in the morning when she can't find her shoes. She runs around and I get crabby. When she finds them we hurry to tie them so she doesn't miss the bus. She shouts "goodbye mom! I love you! God bless you today!" I repent then for my impatience. Eucharisteo.

19. Our messy spring yard. Muddy boots. Bicycles. Children. we know how to live at our house.

20. Freedom I have, in Jesus. Freedom I have, here in America. Freedom I have, to be me.