Palm Sunday

Chattering voices came from the street.

"People are saying he's the messiah," one said. 
"A messiah from Nazareth? Really?" Questioned another. 
"Yes-- his name is Jesus." 
"Let's gather palm branches to celebrate," another said.
"Surely he'll come riding on a horse." 

By the time I had washed clothes and swept the floor, the voices had gotten louder. More people were gathered. I thought to myself "I'll step outside for a few minutes, I suppose." At the sound of hooves clicking and clacking rhythmically in the distance, the crowd quieted. As the clacking got louder and louder, so did the beating of my heart. It was as if my heart had sprouted wings and decided to fly north.

Further down the street I could hear people shouting "savior! savior!" As far as the eye could see, palm branches swayed in the air, doing a victory dance of their own. People laid out their clothes on the dusty, cracked, stone street. It was like even robes had prostrated themselves.

When He finally rounded the corner I couldn't take my eyes off him. He looked...well...he looked normal. His robe had sawdust in it. He was breaking out a sweat. Yet there was something extraordinary about him. 

"He's riding on a donkey?" neighbors said aloud.
"What kind of a Messiah is this?"
"Truly, this is a new kind of savior."

As he got closer I found myself caught up in the moment. Even out of my own mouth came the words "savor! savior!" The donkey had slowed to a stroll. He gazed side to side making eye contact with each and every person. His head turned my direction. We locked eyes. Though it must have only been for a couple of seconds, it felt like a lifetime. In that instant I was known and exposed, cherished and adored. The sea of my soul had been made still.

Peace had come. Love had come.