Petals and Remembrance

If you knew what might be said of you,  an act or characteristic that all would agree,  “That’s what I remember most about….”

What might that one thing be, when might that moment have occurred or what might be the description of you that followed pensive pause?

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I read today about a woman who loved Jesus.

With intention, she sought and found Jesus. She found him at the house of Simon, a man with leprosy.  Others were there. She made her way to Jesus, broke open the alabaster vase and tenderly poured the costly perfume on his head, anointing him, an act of love.

She had heard of his coming death. The others, indignant and critical, vying for the approval of Jesus, pointed out her waste, her lack of discretion. Jesus, instead corrected them, humbled and touched by her beautiful and timely act.

The act of love she’d be remembered by, the story of the broken vase, the perfume,  Jesus told them all this is what will be told in memory of her…

the woman from Bethany, the one with intentional love for me.

“She has done what she could. She has anointed my body beforehand for burial. Truly, I say to you wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.” Jesus.  Mark  14:8-9

There are camellia petals, still rich and soft, in my Bible.

There are little asterisks, notes, and lengthy prayers scattered among bullet lists of blessings.IMG_1418_kindlephoto-16830405

There’s a place I’m found every morning for a while now.  Bible and nicely flowing pen or pencil, time with God. I’m most content there.

It’s not at all profound or amazing; yet, I’d like to know there may be memories of me there, in my morning chair.

The place of finding Jesus.

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