The colors, fragrances, sights, and sounds of the street fair blended into a harmonious mix of joy on the sunny spring day. The fair drew hundreds of artists, sculptors, painters, quilters, potters, silversmiths, woodworkers, weavers, crafters, and other creative artisans from across the country, eager to display their wares. 

Enticed, I perused the aisles, marveling at the talent of each artist. A grandfather made custom-built live-edge furniture from local natural resources. A quilter's guild displayed award-winning hand-stitched quilts. An experienced weaver demonstrated the versatility of the looms she used to create rugs, shawls, table runners, tote bags, and fabric for clothing. A food artist lined up a variety of artisanal, home-baked sourdough loaves. A father and son forged handwrought iron gates and doors. Fiber artists displayed hand-knit clothing and crocheted home decor. A Native silversmith worked on a turquoise ring as we watched. One Native American man, who had worked as a shepherd, displayed his collection of Southwestern-style oil paintings, while a Navajo woman, dressed in a velveteen blouse and a long, full skirt, spun wool yarn from fleece to make blankets. 
  
All of the displays featured only handcrafted items. Nothing was factory-produced. Even duplicate items (place mats, napkins, or clothing), had unique characteristics that set them apart from each other.  

Tags or signs at each booth reflected the status of the goods:  “Hand-made,” “Hand-crafted,” “Homespun,” “Handwoven,” “Hand-stitched,” “Hand-wrought,” “Artisanal,” or “Custom-built.” 

Oh, the many skilled hands it took to create all the wares on display! However, it took more than talented artisans for the street fair to function. There would have been little purpose for it without an audience.  The visitors or clientele—who might have been your or me—are unique, too!

God, the Master of the Universe, created you and me—and every other person who has inhabited this planet since the beginning of time. Out of those millions of human beings, isn't it a humbling thought to know that you are unlike any other person who has ever existed? Your fingerprints are like no one else's. Your DNA is solely your own. (Even twins have DNA mutations). Everything about you is unique!

You are God’s creation. Hand-made. Handcrafted. Custom-built. By Him and for Him. The talents and gifts given to you by the Holy Spirit are unique, too. Truly, you are one of God’s Masterpieces!
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"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully  made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." - Psalm 139:14 NIV

Photo courtesy of Vecteezy.com 
 

You step across cracked stone tiles on the same path you’ve always taken when you enter the main corridor of the open-air marketplace. A gust of wind whips through the hallway, scattering dried spring flowers and leaves about your feet. Chilled, you wrap your woven shawl over your shoulders for warmth.
  
        In your satchel you carry scarves and a tunic you have woven by hand to take to a merchant. In trade for your woven goods, you hope to find a selection of fruit and grain for your family's meals. However, when you arrive at the vendor’s location, he is not there. His shop is closed.   
 
        Searching for another vendor with household goods, you find they, too, are shut down. You look down the breezeway. What has happened? The market is usually bustling with people, but now, only a few vendors remain open, and the hallways are nearly vacant.   

        The echo of gates closing and locking chains ruminates throughout the venue. The emptiness is eerie. Even the air carries with it a feeling of melancholy. You stand still. You look. You listen. In the distance, you hear the roar of a crowd.

        A woman carrying a small basket rushes by. She looks familiar. You run to catch up to her. “Excuse me,” you call out. “I think I know you..." 
 
        The woman stops, then pauses. “Johanna?”
        "Yes! And you're...Priscilla?”
        She nods.   
        “I remember you. It was that day at the river when Jesus spoke." 
       
        “Yes, of course,” Priscilla replied. Her eyes glistened, but Johanna noticed a sadness in her expression.    

        “I didn't mean to hold you up. I just don't understand why the marketplace is so empty..."

        "Oh, dear," Priscilla replied. She began to pace. "You haven't heard the news, have you?" 

        “What news?” you ask.

        Priscilla drew in a deep breath and adjusted the scarf covering her gray locks. “The Roman soldiers captured Jesus. They beat him terribly," she said, her voice quivering. "He is being forced to carry his own cross to Golgotha. Do you hear the crowds? I believe Jesus is near! If you wish to come with me, please do so quickly." 
   
     “Yes, I want to go!" you reply. Your mind swirls with mixed emotions. You want to see Jesus; yet, you don't want to see him suffering. But you go, sprinting behind the woman through the walkways of the vacated market. Reaching the street, you line up behind the crowd, then strain your neck to see as you stand on your tiptoes. 

         Figures approach in the distance. “Could that be him?" you ask.         
        “It’s hard to tell. Possibly," Priscilla answers. Noise from the crowd intensifies.

        Then, you see him! It's Jesus! You gasp. He is hunched beneath the weight of a thick, heavy wooden cross which he must balance over one shoulder, while the foot of the cross drags in the dirt. His face and scalp are bloodied from the crown of thorns, and gaping wounds and blood cover his back.

        “What have they done to him?" you cry. 

        “The soldiers used spiked whips,” a man said. “It causes the flesh to tear.”

        You feel suddenly nauseous and dizzy. Priscilla grabs your arm to steady you. She has been crying, too, her green eyes watery and puffy. You regain your balance, take a few deep breaths, and adjust the satchel over your shoulder.

        Your are reminded of your handwoven items as you look at Jesus and notice how stained, soiled, and bloody his garment has become. How you wish you could comfort him! If only you could provide him with a fresh, new tunic, something soft and clean that would help protect his gaping wounds and absorb the profuse perspiration on his skin. But there is nothing you can do. Except pray.

        Sobs intensify, but the loudest wailing comes from the dark-haired woman kneeling at the edge of the street. With outstretched arms, she cries out to Jesus in Aramaic.

         “It's Mary, the mother of Jesus," a woman whispers.

         Oh, poor Mary! What heartbreak to see her son suffer! 

        But not everyone is tearful. Hateful, angry voices emerge from the crowd—some shouting profanity, others mocking Jesus, and some spitting at him.

        When Jesus’ breathing turns ragged and he begins to crumple beneath the weight of the cross, you can scarcely stand it. Then, a man steps in to help.

        "It's Simon of Cyrene," someone says.

        The good man helps steady the cross for Jesus, so he is able to regain his footing. Jesus' steps were still haggard, but he kept going, even when the road to Golgotha became steep.

        Finally, you must turn away and not look, for your heart has brimmed with the deepest of sorrow.  How could they do this to Jesus? The Son of God. Condemned. Ridiculed. Scourged. And soon, Roman soldiers would nail his hands and feet to the cross to die. Next to him, on either side, would be two thieves hanging on crosses of their own.

        Oh, the gloom and darkness of this day! The horror, the tragedy, the injustice!

        You cannot bear to follow the crowd to Golgotha. You know what will take place there. You, Priscilla, and other women remain. The air feels strangely heavy, and you wonder if the land itself is grieving with sadness and despair.

        Then, at Noon, the sky suddenly turns dark. Dear God above, what is happening? It feels like night. Fearful, you and the other women flee to a nearby home of one of the women. You can still hear the clamoring of the crowd gathered on the hill. Then, you hear the loudest of cries and wailing. Moments later, the ground begin to shake!

        Filled with fear and trembling, you and the others take cover. Hiding beneath a table, you lift your head to look out the window. Rocks are splitting in half along the hillside!

        Truly, the God of Creation has responded to all that has taken place! 

        Finally, when all has become quiet and the darkness subsides, you and the other come out from hiding. You bid farewell to your friend and the other women, and vow to meet up again. With tear-stained faces, you retreat in silence.

        Exhausted and weak, you trudge home through the vacant marketplace and down the dirt embankment to your abode. You feel like crying, but you have no tears left to shed. You remind yourself to think differently. 

        Be strong. Remember Jesus’ teachings. Love as He loved. Let others know about him! 

        That night, racked with sorrow, you sleep little, but you pray fervently for Mary, her family, for the Disciples, and all who are in mourning for Jesus. Finally, you sleep. Then, in the wee hours of the morning, you awake suddenly as a message comes to your heart. You cannot see beyond this moment, but things will change. 
       
        Was this message meant to be an answer to prayer to ease your sorrow? What does it mean, that things will change? 
 
        Soon, you will learn the truth.

        Three days later, Mary Magdalene, Mary, the mother of James, and Salome took spices to anoint Jesus’ body at the tomb (Matthew 28:5-6). Imagine their surprise, shock, and confusion when they found the stone rolled away to Jesus’ tomb. He was not there! An angel appeared and told them not to be frightened, for Jesus was not there. He had been raised from the dead. The resurrection had taken place!

        After his crucifixion, Jesus appeared to the Disciples various times. Then, they understood what He had been trying to tell them all along, that He would die, but that He would be resurrected.

        The good news of Jesus Christ spread! And here we are, over two thousands years later. The good news of Jesus Christ lives: Jesus died on the cross for your sins and mine. He is our Savior, our Lord, our Salvation!

        The events that led up to the resurrection were sad, dark, and solemn, but on the third day, when Jesus’ resurrection took place, grief gave way to joy and gladness. Truly, the Easter story is a journey from "Tears to Reign," and Jesus reigns forever!  

        Alleluia! He is Risen! Happy Easter! 
                                                                                    ><<><<><<>< 
A bit of Easter trivia (courtesy of Google):      
1).Why is “Good Friday” called “Good?”
2).Where does the word, “Easter,” come from?
 
Answers:
1).”Good Friday” is a sorrowful and dark time. However, it is referred to as “Good” because of it’s positive outcome (Jesus rising from the dead on the third day). “Good” also refers to holiness and sacredness.
2).The word, “Easter,” originated in the second century with the celebration of the resurrection. The Greek word, “Pascha,” is similar to the Hebrew word, “pesach,” meaning “Passover.”  
Other languages that use a similar word for Easter: Spanish-Pascua; Italian-Pasqua; French-Pâques; Portuguese-Páscoa; Finnish-Paasiainen; Welsh-Pasg; Swedish/Norwegian/Danish-Paske. 

Photo: Courtesy of Vecteezy.com

"A new planner? Great!" I smiled, carefully unwrapping the shiny Christmas paper. "Thank you, 'Santa,'" I beamed, as I gave my husband a hug.  "You knew just what I needed!" 
 
     I love getting a new planner each year, and couldn't wait to fill it in with all the plans I wanted to make.  

      After writing, I checked the entries. Birthdays and appointments? Affirmative. Goals for the new year? Um hm. Hope and dreams? Yes, on the "Notes" page at the back of my planner. I felt excited. Renewed. Hopeful.  

     Had others planned their new year? I asked family and friends. Some enthusiastically replied, "Yes," and were eager to use their new planners. Others said they preferred making use of a calendar on their phone. Some made resolutions; some didn't. Same with goals. It made me wonder if it was easier to just "wing it" by not being dependent on a written planner. 
   
     But "set" plans? I used to think they existed. As I later realized, the dreaded six-letter word, C-H-A-N-G-E, often can interfere with "set" plans and turns them into "unplanned" occurrences.

       The Bible addresses the subject of plans, too. Proverbs 16:9 says, "In their hearts humans plan their course, but the LORD establishes their steps."  We can make all the plans we want, but there is no guarantee they will be realized. Proverbs indicates it is the Lord (also referred to as the "Good Shepherd" in the Bible), who guides His "sheep" in the way they should go. 

       Bible verses from John 10:27-30 tell us more about the Lord's "sheep":
      "My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father's hand. I and the Father are one."     

      Because we know that C-H-A-N-G-E (or unplanned occurrences) take place in our lives, should that affect our efforts in making plans? No. It doesn't have to. We can still make plans and goals and think about our hopes and dreams. But, employing wisdom, may we be reminded that we are not ultimately in control of our destiny. May God be the One to whom we turn for direction in our lives, and may we listen to His voice.

     God loves you—and He knows just what you need!      
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Photo courtesy of Vecteezy.com 

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY! Today is the day traditionally set aside to celebrate romantic love; however, it also encompasses the love we have for all those who are dear to us.

     I was just thinking about the traces we leave behind every day as our mark on the world—the unseen traces, that is.

If anyone wanted to find evidence of where we’ve been (excluding GPS or phone tracking), a forensics expert could easily track our activity by analyzing the fingerprints we leave on everything we touch.

     We don’t consciously think about the invisible marks we leave, probably as infrequently as we think about the approximately 23,040 breaths we take in every 24 hours. Imagine, though, what it would be like if your fingerprints showed up in red (or another color) on everything you touched? It would be quite a sight, wouldn’t it?

     Now, think about how amazing it is that our Creator gave every person a unique set of fingerprints, ones that cannot be matched to anyone else on this planet (even twins have different prints). If we were subject to being found, it wouldn’t be too difficult for authorities to find plenty of physical evidence from our “imprints.”

     But what if our hearts left a “print” every time we expressed love, care, sympathy, or concern for others? I like to think these would be called “Heart-prints.” If they showed up visibly (let’s say in red), imagine what our world would look like? And what would your own corner of the world look like?
We can only hope that our Heart-prints would be even more numerous than the fingerprints we leave behind each day. Picture a world stamped with Heart- prints—might it look like a giant Valentine?

     Speaking of the world, I cannot help but want to speak of our Creator, the Father above, the God of all Creation, our Counselor and Redeemer, who long ago set His fingerprint, His Heart-print, upon each of us. We have been marked as His Own, unseen evidence that we were created for Him, by Him, and we are loved by Him.  
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     May your Valentine’s Day be a Blessed one, and know that you are loved!
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John 3:16 - "For God so loved the world that He gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." 

[Photo courtesy of Vecteezy.com]