I wrote the story Olives and Dust sometime last year. My daughter had recorded a cover of the 1977 song by Kansas, Dust in the Wind, and the words were flowing through my mind as I meditated on Jesus in the garden. The longer I stood watching him, the more I felt my flimsy, fleeting, dusty humanity. Watching a love so substantial, that ran deep rooted as the gnarly trees in the garden, watching that love weep for me and all my kind, I began to wonder at the potential within my dusty self to become that kind of love.
Jesus. He is more, so much more than I know yet in his brief humanity and his glorious divinity.
Somehow as I lean into Matthew 26 I hear him say : so are you Cassie. You are more than you know yet, in your brief humanity, and glorious divinity.
And I want to say to you, reader, so are you.
What we gaze upon, we become like. So this Easter, I’ve recorded a reading of Olives and Dust, and I’d like to invite you to linger a little with me, and watch love weep in the garden. In watching we will become a little more like the One we see.
If you’d prefer to read the original blog, search Olives and Dust, and you’ll find it here.
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