Sweep the floor, read a story, mop the floor, wipe a nose.
Choose the wine, kiss a cheek, knead the dough, and on it goes….


It’s Passover. Seder night. Maundy Thursday.
All kinds of terms and titles and descriptions, but really, one reason:

The Lamb.


As I sweep and cook and wipe and prepare, my sons are at my side. The eldest; grabbing first and asking later; begging a taste, a touch, an answer. The middle one; not caring what task is actually at hand but wanting to help, to see, to be included. The youngest; on my back, always kicking, always brimming over with lashes and quiet delight. My sons my sons…. Themselves, young rams wrestling in thickets.

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As I rub the bitter herbs into the meat, my heart is suddenly with those young mothers of long ago. With bloodied hands and watchful children, I weep. I can’t help it. I look to my eldest and ask myself, “Do I trust this God? Do I trust Him to be faithful to Himself? To be that One who can both smite and yet pass over?”

I think of those mothers and taste their salty, bloodied fear. What sickening panic must have filled their chests. “The LORD! He is coming…tonight! Will He see the blood? Is the blood enough? A lamb’s blood?! On our door? Will my son be saved? What yet waits in these dark hours?”

I see them tending their babes; at their side, on their backs, in the homes they have known. “Quickly, the bread. Where is the lamb? Husband, did you choose the right lamb? Did you listen?! Did you obey?! Do you believe what is at stake here?! Death is at our doorway!  Children, come near. Away from the shadows. Away from the door! The Lord our God, He will pass over us this night. Let us wait….”

Preparing. Reading and praying and whispering. Cloaks gathered. Sandals on. Waiting.

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Silence. Darkness.

The heavy smell of blood.
Blood on the doorways. Blood on the hands. Blood in the cradles of others.


And He did come. And He passed over.
For He was present with them.
As chosen Lamb, slaughtered. As blood, clotting thick on the beams. As first-born son, waiting

And so we share the story and tell our sons. We include the bloody details: the fear, the tragic loss of sons unknown, the commands, the actions…

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And the promise.
The fact that, though hours of darkness were heavy before them, Redemption was on the horizon.


2 Responses to “Passover”
  1. Marissa says:

    Thanks for sharing glimpses of this special day. I’m hoping to find a minute to blog about ours too, a little scattered because it is new to us but so meaningful too. I loved the day of preparing, so much pondering and asking was done.

    • Dea' says:

      I agree! I said to Jeremy that I enjoy the day more than any guests do as I have the benefit of the preparation and the pondering. I LOVE explaining each step to the kids and thinking through all the motions. It’s a ton of work, but SO rich!

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