Holy Anniversary

I was raised Catholic, so I always knew who He was. As a kid, while my friends made Let's Pretend games out of mommies and princesses, for some strange reason I pretended to be Mary. With a blue pillowcase on my head, I walked the long road to Calvary or rode a camel toward a manger. I was odd like that. Jesus was always a part of my life though, so it was no wonder that I instantly recognized His voice when He called my name on Good Friday morning, 1987. Who could have imagined He'd be there waiting for me beneath the Hollywood sign? He's always the last place you look. I gave my heart away, and I've never looked back even once.

He's been active in every day of my life since then. He's renewed the call He whispered into my ear as I was formed, and He's used a lot of His kids (whether they knew it or not) to pave the way for me through this life. Unassuming peeps with a good word or some shelter...knowledgeable students of scripture...unexpected voices on the other end of a telephone or an email...editors or agents who saw His recognizable stamp upon my writing...sweet-hearted people who simply sought to serve as His hands and feet...even a famous face or two with the bright light of His spirit shining through their eyes. It's been a messy, bumpy journey rooted in order and purpose and, just beneath the surface, the firm hand of my spiritual destiny.

While everyone else looks forward to Christmas every year, my heart is wrapped up in this very holy week. I look forward, and I count down the days toward the only anniversary that really matters: The one that gave me a future and a hope.

It seems only fitting that I would have found Him on Good Friday since grace is my favorite topic of all time. I'm sure it has something to do with how often I mess up, but the idea that He extends the kind of forgiveness that actually separates me from my mistakes, as far as the east is from the west...Well, that blows my mind. How often do we do that? Not as often as He hopes we will, but I'm convinced that any amount of grace extended is a wordless praise song to His ears. With that in mind, I try to hand it out as freely as I'm able. A lot of days I fail. But it's still my mission.

Like Spring itself, this week in history holds the promise of all things new. And for people who falter as often as we humans do, is there anything like knowing there's Someone waiting for us with a loving embrace and a comforting smile when it's all finished?

This week is a reminder. I can almost hear His voice: All is forgiven. Just come on home. You won't be sorry.