Everything is Going to Be Alright

It’s Palm Sunday as I write this story, and my husband walks in the room and says, “Hey, aren’t we going to church,”  I look up at him for a moment, and he says, “Oh, right, I forgot.”

It's Palm Sunday as I write this story, and my husband walks in the room and says, He is a retired minister and always goes to church even if we are on vacation.  He believes it is important to visit the house of God on Sundays, but our churches are closed today as we practice social distancing due to the Coronavirus Pandemic.

He goes into the kitchen, turns on gospel music to its highest volume, and starts cooking breakfast.  I don’t know why, but it made me cry, and I got up and walked outside with my coffee.

Palm Sunday is the Sunday before Easter that begins the Holy Week.  It is the day that we remember and celebrate the day Jesus entered Jerusalem as Savior and King.

As Jesus rode a donkey into the town of Jerusalem, a large crowd gathered and laid palm branches and their cloaks across the road, giving Jesus the royal treatment and shouted, "Hosanna to the Son of David!  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!'

Little did they know that when Good Friday arrived in five days, he would be hanging on a cross.  Things can change very quickly.

While watching the birds flitter around the feeders, I looked down and noticed a piece of broken pottery that my oldest son made for me when he was in Elementary school.  It has his little fingerprints pressed into the clay around the edges. It broke a few months ago, and I have been trying to figure out how to fix it.

But the sad thing is I can’t remember the moment he gave it to me.

In times like these, I am reminded that life is made up of moments, not days or years.  I wish I could go back and feel the moment he placed this beautiful creation in my hands, but I can’t.  There are a lot of moments like that.

It is hard right now being quarantined, not seeing our children and grandchildren, not going to church, and not laughing with our friends, but this moment will be something we looked back on one day. I know we will remember how painful and hard it was, but I want to create some moments that I will cherish and be proud of, as well.

While walking on the Riverwalk this week, I met a man climbing up the bank holding his fishing pole. "Did you catch anything?" I asked him. "No, I just wasted an hour of my time and didn't catch a thing."

"Do you like to fish?" I asked. "Yeah, I do," he replied. "Then why do you feel it was a waste of your time?" I asked him.

He just smiled impatiently, shrugged, and walked away.  I know he may be worried or hurting because of this battle our country is fighting now, but I wanted to tell him that everything would be alright and he wasn't wasting time doing something he loved for an hour.

My husband had an app on his computer once a voice announced every so often, "Pay attention, now!" I don't remember why he had it there, but it always made us smile and stop and think about what we were doing.

We have that voice in our heads and hearts too, but so often, it is blocked by all the other voices in our lives.

Recently, I watched a young mother on the playground across the street from where I live. She had two beautiful, energetic children playing all around her, calling out her name as they swung on the swing set and slid down the slide, but she never looked up. She was looking down at her cell phone.

As a mother, a grandmother, and a woman who lost a child before she had time to grow up, I wanted to be that voice in this mom's head that said, "Hey, pay attention now."

Don't get me wrong.  I love technology.  It is an excellent tool and a way of keeping close to our family and friends, but too much technology can be one of those voices that claim our attention and cheat us out of a moment we will never get back.

My husband finished making breakfast and called me in.  He saw my tears and wrapped his arms around me and prayed for our children, our grandchildren, our healthcare workers, leaders, truckers, friends, and neighbors, our world, and then looked down at me and said, "Everything is going to alright, honey."

I know he is right.  This is Holy Week.  Remember, the day that Jesus was crucified is called Good Friday because we know how it ends.  His death led to the Resurrection of Jesus and His victory over death and sin and the celebration of Easter, the very pinnacle of our Christian celebrations.

My hope for you this week is that you will pay attention and cherish your moments and believe in the future because we know that everything is going to be alright, but if it isn't–we'll make it through it.


Author's Image
Deana Landers
Author for Morningcoffeebeans.com

I have had many roles in life
Pastor’s Wife , Mom/Nana , Nurse/Health Educator, Writer , Christian Speaker
I can't remember a time when I wasn't writing stories, either in my head or in my journal.

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