Covid-19… it slapped us. While the sting of denied European ministry left our cheeks red and our plans scrambled, the real whack hit deeper in our hearts. Plans to meet with flesh from our flesh–our global working daughter and son in law–drained away. The anticipated hugs, the little gifts exchanged, the face-to-face checking “are you really ok?” went from being just days away, to well, who knows when. Though I knew others faced much deeper gashes, my faith remained stretched, and I found I must choose.  

Mary, Mary, sister of Lazarus. Did you have to choose, too? Was it a conscious decision to walk away from the kitchen and a watching sister?  Did you think twice when you entered a (presumably) man’s domain to sit at Jesus’ feet? Was it what you had learned at His feet that day that later made you realize He had the power that could’ve kept your brother alive? What glory it must have been when you understood His power was more than you had imagined. Wonder upon wonder, your brother Lazarus was alive!  

Mary, Mary, you chose: you had listened, you had learned, and you had seen. All of this must have led you to a decision. Again denying tradition, with your hair loose, you went with nard in hand—that precious substance that was probably your financial future. Focused on His precious feet, Mary, Mary, you poured out your future. Your worship, Mary, it smelled of His worth.  

So, Paula, Paula, (your name here) what will you choose? You have listened, you have learned, and you have seen. Will the scent of your prayer be of worry, or like Mary’s, His worth?