I am loving this staying at home. I’m sorry that it came about in such an unfortunate way. I’m praying daily and doing my part. That’s what we’re all doing: praying and staying. And washing our hands.
Washing our hands reminds me of Pilate. I never know how to feel about him. He was so confused. As would I be. And scared of what people thought. Like me. And he tried to please. I think he wanted Jesus to somehow okay his tough spot. He wanted everyone’s approval so badly and it wasn’t to be had. What happened in the end to him?
Yesterday I planted sweet peas into cut-off solo cups to plant by the garden fence in May. Right now the garden fence is snowbound with ugly sugar snow the edges of which are seas of mud. It really is spring, but gardening comes by faith at this point. So we believe and we start seeds in rows of small cups of dirt. More window sills than ever are loaded with space eating flats of hope. We ordered vegetable seeds and seed potatoes. So did lots of other more people than usual. Mr. Feed and Seed in Hayward took my name and number promising to call when the seed potato order arrives there.
Lastly, though our sunrise services are likely cancelled; nothing can cancel the resurrection. Easter is coming regardless Covid-19 and hand washing over and over. Because of Easter we can get our hearts washed, too. “He that hath clean hands and a pure heart…” . I always hope that Pilate finally got the real washing in the end. That he somehow realized that Jesus really is the King of Kings and that He solved Pilate’s confusing dichotomy of being a people please-er.
Stone House Scribblings 