Chronicles Woven in Runes
Building Blocks of a Good Life
I’ve been experimenting with Nightcafe and am so happy at the way this has turned out.
My prayer is that, when the time comes, I will be greeted by my own children whom I have lost, foster children who passed away in my home, and all the multitudes of ancestors I’ve done the work for.
The tragic Acadians lost in the diaspora called The Great Dispersal that drove many to Louisiana.
To the Ancestors who came to the New World from France and dug trenches called dykes in Nova Scotia. All of these contributed to my bloodline, on both sides of my parents.
One, a veritable hero, Beausoleil Broussard, my direct ancestor that I happen to share with Beyoncé.
Another ancestor, unnamed due to threat of shaming, an ancestor who was the unknowing carrier of the deaf blind and balance scourge of many Cajuns, Usher Syndrome. Another, Tay Sachs syndrome, shared by tight-knit Jewish communities.
To my Louisiana Ancestors, who braved yellow fever, great storms and hurricanes, and sweltering heat. Worst of all, the mosquitoes who ravaged bodies with yellow fever. Even the awful monster, leprosy, inhabited so many bodies, clinics still exist in Louisiana. Yet, they survived. With their celebrations at Mardi Gras, and family crawfish boils, along with cotton picking parties and Saturday night dance halls. My childhood was filled with such great memories! In fact, I was nearly born on my grandfather’s shrimp boat on New Year’s Eve night. The shrimp were running so good, nobody except Mama was in a hurry to get off that boat! I just barely made it to the hospital at Lafayette General (called Charity Hospital at the time. The building’s still there.)
To my one line of Irishmen, the Pepper’s, who came right after the great potato starvation time, who first witnessed persecution, and then, founded a good life of blacksmithing. (My grandmother’s grandmother wasn’t allowed to speak in her native tongue, even at home, but my mother recalls her beautiful “sing-song” accent in her Cajun speak.)
Christ is Risen!
Truly, He Has Risen!
I just received a message that was so touching, reminding us all of that Sacred, Blessed Thursday So very long ago, when the Lord spoke to His disciples, but they didn’t understand.
Not until they witnessed the Resurrection of Jesus Chridt, our Lord, Savior, and Master of us all. The true sacrifice wasn’t only on the cross.
It happened in the Garden of Gethsemane, when He took upon Himself the total of the sums of the sins of the world.
Think of it! He bore our sins – every one of us! From the beggar to the thief, from the robber to the murderer; from the sinful to the ones who try. He experienced every single thing a human can experience.
Why? So He can know how to succor us. So He’d understand how the Cancer patient felt, how physical pain of every kind felt; how emotional pain felt; how spiritual pain felt; any type of pain a human can experience. He felt it.
He knew that He had to know these things in order for us to trust Him, to believe Him, when He said, “I know. I can take it away from you. Follow Me.”
Oh, the love He has for us! We are truly His brothers and sisters. He is our Elder brother, the firstborn of the Father.
I believe in my heart that He had a relationship with each and every one of us. Before we were born, we knew Him intimately as our Elder brother.
The fact that He bore your sins, my sins, and everyone who ever took a breath here’s sins, that shows the great love He has for us.
If you don’t know that with all your being, please ask Him. He will communicate this fact to you in the way you’ll know it.
Deeply personal.
One on one.
No barriers.
He reaches out to us individually in so many ways. All we have to do is, “Be still and know that I am.”
In Jesus’ Name, Amen
Nestled on the slopes of the Mount of Olives, just east of Jerusalem, lies a quiet garden whose name carries a weight far heavier than its olive trees. Gethsemane. In Aramaic and Hebrew it means “oil press”—the place where olives are crushed until the pure, healing oil flows. There, in the shadow of ancient trees, the Savior of the world chose to be pressed under a burden no mortal could possibly bear.
It was the night before Calvary. The Passover meal had ended. Jesus led His disciples to this familiar spot, then stepped away alone. The scriptures describe what happened next with stark honesty: “And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground” (Luke 22:44). He was not merely anticipating the cross. In that garden He took upon Himself every sin, every sorrow, every sickness, and every heartbreak that would ever be felt by any child of God. The weight was so crushing that even the Son of God trembled and asked if the cup could pass from Him—yet He submitted: “Nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.”
Think about the name again: the oil press. Olives do not yield their richest oil by gentle handling. They must be crushed. The stone rolls over them relentlessly until every drop of life-giving oil is released. In Gethsemane, Jesus became the ultimate olive. He allowed Himself to be pressed so that the oil of salvation could flow to every one of us. The pure, healing, sanctifying power of the Atonement was squeezed from His soul that night.
Now consider your own moments of repentance.
When the Holy Ghost gently (or sometimes not so gently) brings a sin to your remembrance, you feel a pressure in your chest. Guilt. Remorse. A heaviness that makes sleep difficult and peace impossible. That pressure is not punishment—it is the garden of your own Gethsemane. Your heart is being pressed. The old self is being crushed so that something pure can come forth: a broken heart and a contrite spirit. Just as the Savior’s agony produced the oil of redemption, your godly sorrow produces the oil of repentance. It hurts. It is meant to. But it is also the very process that prepares you to receive the healing He already purchased.
I have felt that press. You have too. The tears in the car after a harsh word to a loved one. The sleepless night after realizing you betrayed a trust. The ache that comes when you finally admit you’ve been running from God. In those moments you are not alone. The One who bled in Gethsemane is right beside you, whispering, “I already carried this. Let Me help you release it.”
And here is the beautiful truth that turns every tear into thanksgiving: because He was willing to be pressed to the point of blood, you never have to stay crushed. The same garden that witnessed infinite suffering now offers infinite mercy. The oil that flowed from His agony anoints your wounds, softens your heart, and lights your way home.
So today I stand in awe and say simply, “Thank You.”
Thank You, Jesus, for not running from the press.
Thank You for staying in the garden when every fiber of Your being cried out to leave.
Thank You that because of Your suffering, my repentance is never hopeless—it is healing.
Thank You that the oil of Your Atonement still flows freely for anyone who will come to their own small Gethsemane and say, “Not my will, but Thine.”
Whatever weight you are carrying right now, take it to the garden. Lay it at the feet of the One who already bore it. Let the press do its work. And then rise, forgiven, lighter, and filled with the oil of gladness that only the Savior can give.
He suffered so you could be free.
What a Savior. What a gift. What an oil press.
The Oil Press of Gethsemane
Just as olives must be pressed and crushed to release their purest, healing oil, our Savior willingly suffered in the garden of the oil press. There He bore every sin and sorrow so that the sanctifying oil of His Atonement could flow to every soul who comes with a broken heart and contrite spirit.
A man slaughters a big cow, starts the grill, and says to his daughter, “Daughter, go call our relatives, friends, and neighbors to join us… We’re having a celebration!”
The daughter goes out to the street and shouts, “Please help! My father’s house is on fire!”
After some time, only a few people come out to help, while many others act like they didn’t hear anything. The ones who came stay, eat, and enjoy the food until late.
The father, confused, looks around and says to his daughter, “I don’t know most of these people. Some I’ve never seen before. Where are our friends, family, and neighbors?”
The daughter calmly replies, “The people who came didn’t come for a party. They came because they thought we were in trouble. These are the people who care about us. These are the ones who deserve to celebrate with us.”
Lesson: The ones who don’t show up when you’re struggling don’t deserve to be with you when you succeed.
What do you think? I think it all depends on the intent of a person, really. Some people may WANT to help, but don’t know how. There are times in everyone’s lives when it’s just too hard to stretch and serve another, even though we want to help.
If someone came to our door right now, my husband would do everything he can, but he can’t give money or can’t be gone from the house very long, as people need him here. Those circumstances must be taken into consideration, and not punish those with good intent.
Ponder
Maybe you’ll set a goal for this new year. Some people choose a word to represent their intentions for the year ahead. This year, our family will be focusing on the same verse of scripture: Moses 6:34, “Walk with me.” This was an invitation given to the prophet Enoch.
As Enoch journeyed through the land, the Spirit of God rested upon him. Then the Lord spoke to him. He taught him about His plan of happiness, which would give purpose and meaning to life. Everyone longs to have better and deeper meaning and purpose in their lives. When the Lord finished describing His plan, He gave Enoch an invitation: “Walk with me.”
As you journey through this new year, maybe you’ll find yourself looking for happiness, purpose, and meaning. We could all learn from Enoch’s story and invite the Lord to be part of our journeys this year, no matter where we go…or stay.
As you might already know, I have been dealing with Chronic Kidney Disease. I’m thankful to still be here, as I’ve got much to do. I hope to use my time wisely, so I’ll be ready when the time comes.
You could choose to walk with Him. As you do, blessings await. I’m sure each of us will be better for it, if we determine for ourselves that we will walk with the Lord.
It’s going to be a good year.
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