that sweet, sweet scent

I was three steps down my front walk when I noticed it, at last. I can smell the orange blossoms. I stopped and just breathed it in for a few moments, savoring that heady, rich scent. I was beginning to think that I might have missed it... or that with all of the building going on in our area that there were no longer any fruit trees close enough. But no, this morning, as I breathed in my fill of Jesus air, a peace that I have been craving washed over my heart.
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There are some years I am so in tune with the journey to Easter, intentionally taking every step from Ash Wednesday to Easter. And there are other years, like this one, where I find myself on the fringe, letting it happen without me. I let the Sunday sermons carry me to Easter, knowing full well that my heart needs more. I was so thankful, this past Sunday, to sit alert in my seat, and hear the whole story, word for very word.

Sunday night, we watched the live Passion event from New Orleans. It is the very place I associate with the journey, as it is the place I have grown the most in my faith, seeing the story played out in so many ways {here and here.} As that illuminated cross traveled the dark city streets, it felt so familiar, so personal. The music was divine... and as Trisha Yearwood sang her goodbye, my soul was shaking, tears were streaming down my face.

And so here I find myself, in the midst of Holy Week, needing to be filled and overwhelmed by Easter... and knowing that sweet scent was sent to do it.