It was a bit of opening Pandora's box. One project lead to another and the cascade meant I spent most of the day cleaning out closet after closet, room after room. Everything had to shift. I really had to clean house both to make space for the new one coming and also to smooth the transition for the older boys.
It seems I am always cleaning house at the end of Lent. I fondly remember my first Lent in California. I was single in a small apartment. Ulrich and I were dating. He and I decided to share our Lenten journey that year -- which we had decided to deeply root in Passover -- giving up leaven for the entire lent and eating bitter herbs at every meal.
On the eve of Easter, I remember getting ready to go to bed and looking around my apartment thinking --- I can't greet Jesus this Easter with a messy house. I stopped what I was doing and went on a frantic cleaning binge that lasted till 3 in the morning. Scrubbing every corner of my house. Then, taking a long shower and scrubbing myself until I also shined with the newness of Easter. I covered my tables and furniture with white.
That next beautiful morning. At daybreak, as the sun rose. Ulrich offered me a ring and Jesus invited the two of us on a journey rooted in the promise of Easter morning.
Tomorrow morning marks Palm Sunday. The Holy Week begins. The slow, painful journey to the cross. It is time to clean house. Time to prepare. To open our eyes and hearts to hear the story again. To ponder our own crosses. To let go of our life and fall hard on grace. Easter comes to break the dark places in each of us.
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