It was the Saturday before Easter, 2004. I drove up to my parents' end of town for the day to occupy myself while Kevin studied at our apartment. My mom and I took a quick trip to Lowes where, in the parking lot, a family was selling a litter of puppies (you know, back in the day when people did that). It was there that I met the wee furry dachshund angel that would become my very own Oscar Mayer Long.
The story is legend in my family. Almost all 4 boys can recite it, and do when we drive past that spot in the parking lot of our local Lowes store. How I'd wanted a dachshund of my own for almost as long as I could remember. How he nuzzled into my arms the minute I picked him up such that I never even looked at any of the others in the litter. How I promised Kevin he could buy something electronic if I could only bring this puppy home. It's almost the perfect story for this time of year. Almost...
I can do you one better.
It's the story of a man. A man wrongfully crucified. A tomb wrongfully filled. A day wrongfully dark. But a morning...
Then came the morning that sealed the promise
Your buried body began to breathe
Out of the silence, the Roaring Lion
Declared the grave has no claim on me
Jesus yours is the victory!
….oh a morning full of Life! A stone rolled away. A tomb emptied. A Savior Risen, risen indeed!
That sweet puppy I brought home all those years ago would become a beloved family pet. Not a perfect pet. He barked at everyone, ate a hole in our couch, sometimes peed on things and snuck into our bed in the middle of the night to sleep under the blankets. But he was ours. And when he passed in September and I held him one last time and thought about everything good and everything hard in owning a pet, I knew if I had the chance to peer into that baby pool and pick him up again, I would do it. I definitely would.
It was the Saturday before Easter, in a garden long ago, and our God looked out onto His creation. At the choices we'd made. At the distance we'd wandered from His side. At His children, not perfect, but His. He handed His son over to death, and in death, gave way to victory. And given the chance to watch His Son die at our hands, but rise again, He would do it. He definitely would.
It's the perfect story because it's the story that is lived over and over and over again. Of a God who defeats the grave, who chooses you and me and everyone in between, no matter our state. Whose Son died to build a bridge that we would not be swallowed up in death, but bound in life to Him eternally. It's the story of love and hope, power and glory, salvation and life. And we've got to tell it, friends. Tell it so that the whole world can recite it! It's not just the stuff of legend, friends. It is the stuff of life.
Happy Easter
XOXO...Kelly
