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Wednesday’s Child

*GOD*Wednesday!

This morning as I gathered my thoughts together; after that pink salt post that is, I was thinking about how quickly the week is going by.  It doesn’t seem that way in a work-a-day week, living life though, yes, it goes by way to quick.

In fact the days, as the say, go by faster when you are having fun.  They also go by fast if you have an exam, or examination coming up.  They go by slow when we are waiting to hear news, be it good or bad.  Or sometimes if we are bored; which is something yet again I don’t understand in this world.  There are so many things to do, so many places to go, so many movies =) to see.  Yet in those moments of something going by fast or slow, the good and bad, sometimes time just doesn’t move.  Time stands still!  It’s like freeze framing time.  A minute is forever when you are at lunch waiting on the microwave to reheat or cook your food.  A minute is forever when you are waiting at a light.  Unless of course you want to make a call, or the forbidden, text while driving (shame-shame-shame on you, if this is you).

A minute is nothing when we get a minute to make a guess.  A minute is so little when that’s all we have to say good-bye.  A minute is nothing in the grand scheme of all the 1440 minutes we’re given in each day.  Yet summed up, they are 1440 very important minutes, aren’t they?

Why Wednesday Child

Do you remember the old poem Monday’s Child?  Maybe, because there is a huge generation now, that doesn’t seem to know of Amelia Bedelia or so many things, you haven’t heard it.  It was a poem supposedly describing the sort of person you’d be, describe your character, if you will, if on one of these days you were born:

Monday’s Child:

Monday’s child is fair of face,

Tuesday child is full of grace,

Wednesday’s child is full of woe,

Thursday’s child has far to go,

Friday’s child is loving and giving,

Saturday’s child works hard for a living,

But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day

Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
I’ve Always Loved That I Got Born on The Fair of Face Day

I was born on a Monday.  From the moment I can remember though, I was told I was the ugliest baby.  No, really!  My sister forever and always reminded me of how scared and blotchy and ugly I was at the time of my birth.  It wouldn’t be until my adult life the reasons why came to surface; again literally, surface.  So fair of face, when I was young was something I never believed because I thought it was talking about beauty, about fair, like Snow White sort of fair.  China doll like.  Something I was totally not.

What fair of face really meant was being honest.   This is not say, that I never have told a lie.  That would be a lie.  So I’m telling you yes, I have lied.  People tell me I’m to honest for my own good.  How that can be true, I do sometimes understand.   Sometimes I leave myself vulnerable and open the door to be teased, criticized and treated in a manner which quite honestly is unbecoming of humans.  Or, to my human understanding.

Sorry about that.  I do that often, head on down the bunny trail when I write.  It’s quite honestly, how I talk as well.  I once had a boss who told me I was the only person he ever heard who could talk about five things in ten minutes and cover each of them.  Not that it was enjoyable to listen to, just that I could =eek.  That’s me though.

Now back to the subject and real reason for the title Wednesday’s Child.

Imagine the minutes leading up to, and the Crucifixion of Jesus.  What did every minute feel like to Him as He was about to, for the very time in His life, for a period of time, all for us, know that what was coming was His Father leaving Him so He could die for us.  Wowza.  That’s just almost to much to comprehend.  Especially when I know that I’m one who’s responsible for His enduring all He endured.

Wednesday’s Child Is Full of Woe

We are in that week before we celebrate Resurrection SONday and the real reason each and every Bible Believing CHRISTian has faith, hope, and Love.

In that we also know that like Wednesday’s Child, as we begin to remember all that was done for us, so that we can have the hope, we began to get, as the poem says, woeful.  We find it so difficult to endure the things that were done to our Savior.  We find it gruesome to know and learn the real details of His death.  It’s woe all right.  It’s woe because on the level of our understanding we know the woe is there because of our very own sinful nature.  We are stricken with such knowledge of knowing that it was our very own sinful selves that nailed Him to the cross.  It was because of His great Love for us though that:

Jesus' promised comfort. He also gave us a Comforter in the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.

So as we mourn today, we know the Truth of the Resurrection SONday we are going to celebrate.  In the meantime the song of my heart today is one I want to leave behind, should this be the last day I live here.

All I want of my testimony of my life is not one where sure, I was some sort of this or that.  What I want is for anyone who does somewhat know me, or never knew me, to know that…

Scott Krippayne: You Have Been Good

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0pPKKOM3gA

*GOD* has been very good to me.  I’ve failed Him more times than I’d honestly want to be fair of face about.  I know that it was my sin that helped to hold him to the cross, it was me, me who held Jesus there.  It was also My Loving Savior Jesus Christ who pardoned and prepared a way for me to know that someday, someday He is going to bring me Home.

I’m grateful for people like Scott Krippayne who can so beautifully put into words, and song, how my heart feels.  Sometimes though twenty-six letters aren’t enough to express how we feel, a song can.

So today, all I truly have to say, is that:

“The real reason I celebrate Life: Resurrection SONday, is my hope of Resurrection Someday for me.”  Jeannie Bee

May today be a day, if you do not know, believe, have confessed and received, may this be a day that your name _____________ can be written in the Lambs Book of Life.

*GOD*, you’ve been so good to me,
Jeannie Bee
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