Palm Trees and Shouts. And peace.

4/10/22

This morning, since I'm not planning on attending a Palm Sunday service, I'm counting on these waving Florida palm trees to remind me that we all need to shout a Hosanna sometimes.

Sing it! Shout it! (What does it mean?, lol.) Never mind. Just shout what bubbles up and see where you need to go from there.

If you sing, sing "lustily and with good courage" as an old white dude who loved God and spread God's love suggested (John Wesley).

Sometimes we just need to belt it out: "Come get us God! Come hold us in your mothering arms."

And our voices join with all the sounds on earth from bombs, collapsing buildings and wailing to a baby's giggle at her dad. We are human. We hold God in us. But we want and desperately need more. We are longing, embodied.

All of our lives' parades have a bit of irony when we remember we are both exquisite and fragile.

And perhaps donkeys are the perfect parade float of all things considered. More on point than those loud booming night-club style trailers of bead throwers we see here at Mardis Gras in Pensacola (while fun). Because while we are capable of love that turns hell upside down everywhere it exists, we are also simple creatures who often have terrible days, speak curses over those we love, crawl out of sleep with morning breath, and need a nap and a bath. And ultimately a grave.

Somehow though, as these palm trees dance in the breeze today, I know we are made for eternal love. I know it. This doesn't stop here. Hosanna.

Come get us Mama.

Oh, you are here.

You are here.