Live an epic

I have been thinking about this post all week. I mean obsessing.  Believe or not except for the Easter Egg and church date story, I don't give much forethought to what I am going to blog about.  I don't plan them. But those two stories just begged to be told.  I mean just had to be told.  Stories are like that.  They are meant to be told. 
Today's gospel reading is my favorite of Passion Week.  My absolute favorite.  I love Palm Sunday.  It is my favorite Sunday of the entire church calendar.  It is epic.  And I just love using my new word.  Just love it.  Any who, I had given up by 5 am,  of having anything blog worthy on Palm Sunday.  Yep, I had given up by 5 am.

It is the making of an epic.  You have a borrowed donkey or two (depending on which version you read), a King, a parade, kids doing Kodak moment cute things that just  make you tear up, an Oscar worthy musical score, a Messiah who is an absolute hoot, breathtaking scenery and everyone has to admit, Jerusalem is pretty show stopping especially with that Temple in the background, a supporting cast that just can't be outdone and engaging dialogue. 

But I have been disappointed on more than one Palm Sunday.  First, there is the whole temptation to wear your Easter frock early. Palm Sunday is just always so beautiful and  more often than not, seven days later on Easter,  we sink back into winter and it is too cold to wear our Easter frocks. One of my reasons for having a child and (I am serious as a heart attack), was so I could watch my child process on Palm Sunday.  I had dreams about this.  I tried to teach Davis to walk early so he could process at the age of 14 months. I sang him "All Glory Laud and Honor" as a lullaby. A palm tree was the first tree he could identify.  We practiced at home. I tried to teach him at 13 months of age to say HOSANNA. Really. As if.   When he was an infant, I would tuck palm branches in his baby bucket during Lent.  Seriously.  We practiced "the wave."  I actually bought him Palm Sunday clothes not Easter clothes, Palm Sunday clothes. So you can imagine my profound disappointment at the age of 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 he refused to walk down the aisle with the other children on Palm Sunday waving palm branches singing hosanna.   You can only imagine. When he was  two, we stood in the vestibule together.  He was permanently attached to my leg, sobbing, "NO, NO, NO."  He had thrown his palm branch on the floor and clutched his chubby hands into fists.  People were staring. He was having no part of it that day.  The senior pastor at the time kindly suggested the nursery that morning. I think he was planning on taking him there himself.   We repeated this at age 3 and 4.  At age 4, he leapt into my arms in the church parking lot that morning and rapped his arms so tight around my neck, I struggled to breathe. By age 5, he began asking at Ash Wednesday was he going to have to walk down the aisle?  By age 8, he had nightmares the week before.  I gave up finally at age 8.  The drama. The drama. 

I really have no explanation for my love of Palm Sunday.  None, except it is a Kodak moment.  And I love that hymn.  And I love palm trees.  I love donkeys.  And it is so dramatic for church processionals.  I mean it is high drama for church liturgy.  High drama.

There are many ways Jesus could have chosen to live his last week.  Many.  There are many ways Jesus could have chosen to live his life.  Many.   He could have skipped the whole dramatic entry and the story would have still been good.  He could have skipped the whole dinner with his friends (Mary and Martha) the night before and the story would have been good.  He could have told her not to wash his feet the night before and walked into Jerusalem with dirty feet. It really wouldn't have changed the whole of the story.  He could have done many things but he chose the epic way.  He chose living large and living out loud.  And maybe that is why I like the story...BUT I think the reason I love it is what SHE said this afternoon...and it made me think..
She is a twenty something who has literally walked to hell and back, almost died, and really didn't know until this week if she would see her next birthday.
She said to me as I was walking out...and I don't know why she said it except it was my best Palm Sunday sermon ever...I mean ever...It was epic..
"I have been thinking...you can live your life one of two ways...you can just fade out of this life quietly...you can just not engage life  OR

You can live an epic...You can live an epic...

That is what I am going to do...I am going to live an epic...I don't want to just fade out...I don't want not to have sucked every last drop of goodness out of each and everyday...I don't want to be numb...I don't want to miss any single moment of any single day...
I am going to live an epic..."

and her story just had to be told...just had to be...

Epic living that is what he said we could have.  He said we could life.  He said we could live the epic life.

We all are going to die.  We are going to have a last week.  We are going to have last dinners with friends.  We are going to fall and break our hearts.  We are going to pray and beg God...please no.  We are going to know days where we feel like God has abandoned us.  We are going to know pain.  We are going to have sleepless nights. Our friends were run away and disappoint.  We will know loneliness.  We will know despair. Grief will be an unwelcome companion.  Tears are going to fall. We will be betrayed by those who love us most.  We will be humiliated.  We will be mocked.    But we have a choice...we have a choice...

We can just fade away or we can live an epic.  We can live an epic.  

May all my kind friends live fully into their epic,  may all by friends know that life the whole of it is worth living,  may none of us just fade away but live an epic...Live an epic. 

All is grace,

Kathleen