Five Minute Friday: SACRIFICE

Today I'm linking up with the Five Minute Friday community, writing for five minutes on a given prompt. 

The word this week is SACRIFICE.

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I've been a parent for over 21 years, and I hope I don't sound like I'm looking for a Nobel Prize when I say that parenting involves a lot of sacrifice. Parenting may require us to sacrifice time, privacy, peace and quiet, plans, a clean tidy house ... oh, and sleep. A lot of sleep.

As a child I took very little conscious notice of the sacrifices my parents made for me and my brothers. They weren't passive-aggressive "Why aren't you grateful for all I've done for you!" types, so I never felt the weight of guilt or shame that we kids were preventing them from enjoying the life they might otherwise have had if they hadn't been parents.

We were their life. I know that now. Maybe it's because I'm a parent, or maybe it's just because I've grown up and can see the extent to which they sacrificed in great and small ways for our happiness.

That's what this poem of mine, "On whom his favour rests," tries to capture: the spirit of sacrifice that comes from a heart of love.

On whom his favour rests

We watched from the kitchen window as Dad plunged down

the lane through knee-deep snow, flashlight beam bobbing

ahead, to start the truck. Exhaust plumed round the red

tail lights, and soft snow flurried as he brushed off the hood

and windshield. Afterward, he walked back to the barn to hitch

the horse to the sleigh, then drove it to the door for Mom

and the boys and me to climb on. We sat on bales he’d placed

on the sleigh bottom, and held tight for the lurching ride

down the lane to where the truck sat running. While we waited

in the warm cab, he returned the sleigh to the barn, tied up the horse,

and came back to the truck at last. At the time, we were so impatient:

it was Christmas concert night, and we wanted to be at the church

already, to shrug out of our coats, don angel wings or

shepherd’s robes, and act out the greatest story again. Yet

now what I think of when I recall that night is not my lines

or cues, or even the news of great joy, but the whickering sound

of the horse’s breaths, the creak of wooden shafts on leather harness,

how the stars swung shivering overhead, and how my father

did without complaint all he could to give us those times of wonder

and bring all the peace on earth our hearts could hold.

Five Minute Friday: PRAISE ("Excellent job!")

Today I'm linking up with Five Minute Friday, where we write for five minutes about a given prompt.

This week's word: PRAISE.

This morning I took Jonathan to the dentist for a checkup and cleaning.

Dentist visits with an autistic child can be challenging, but now that we've been going to this clinic for several years, Jonathan seems very comfortable with it. He actually looks forward to going, maybe in part because he likes being fussed over by all the women on staff. They also make sure to schedule him for the first appointment of the day, which ensures that our wait will be minimal.

One of his favourite people in the office is Erica, one of the dental hygienists. They greeted each other enthusiastically this morning. 

Erica knows about Jonathan's interest in garbage and recycling, and she knows that his favourite part of the appointment is throwing away all the trash: wrappers, gauze, used gloves and masks. 

So while Jonathan was lying in the chair, Erica said, "Look, I'll pile everything up here for you, and when we're all finished you can throw it away."

To Erica's great amusement, Jonathan replied, "Excellent job!"

He uses this expression when he sees someone shoveling a driveway or sweeping a floor or raking leaves.

He compliments fast food workers, janitors, garbage truck drivers, and construction workers.

Everyone needs praise.

Everyone needs to know they're appreciated for what they do.

Everyone needs, now and then, to be told they're doing an excellent job.

Five Minute Friday: SETTLE

Today I'm linking up with Five Minute Friday, writing for five minutes on a given prompt. This week's word: SETTLE.

Last night I entered the darkened church and settled into a seat. I had arrived a few minutes before our Maundy Thursday service was to begin. There was quiet music playing and a notice on the screen inviting us to sit quietly in preparation for worship.

Images and directions on the screen guided us through the service. At one point a picture of a basin and a towel appeared, and parts of the Scripture passage from John 13 about Jesus washing the disciples' feet were shown: 


Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist.  After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”

“No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”

Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”

“Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well.”

Jesus answered, “Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you.” For he knew who was going to betray him, and that was why he said not every one was clean.

When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am.  Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet.  I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you."

 The instructions on the screen directed us to reflect on the passage. As we did so, the sound of water being poured into a basin could be heard over and over and over again. I imagined Jesus pouring water from a jug into a basin, kneeling before one of his friends and washing his feet, then dumping the water out and pouring in fresh water before moving on to the next man. 

Then I imagined Jesus kneeling before me and performing this humble service.

"Maundy" comes from the word "mandate" -- and the washing of the disciples' feet symbolized Jesus' new mandate for his followers. 

Jesus knew that the end was coming; soon he would be arrested, beaten, and crucified. Yet at this moment, his priority was not to strategize with his disciples, or distribute arms and supplies so that they could protect themselves. His priority was to show his disciples what true love is -- and to demonstrate this, he settled on the most menial act of service: washing the hot, sweaty, grubby feet of his friends.

Love is humbly and sacrificially serving others. Even those who might betray or deny us. Even those who already have. 

I can't stop thinking about this: the sound of the water pouring over and over into the bowl, and the realization of Jesus' love being poured out over and over for me -- an ordinary, flawed person, yet one whom He calls friend.

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