03/29/2026
Palm Sunday Meditation by funeral director, Dawn Fisher — “The Time That Changed Everything”
Palm Sunday always feels like a collision of time — the highest of highs and the lowest of lows held in the same week. One moment the crowds are shouting “Hosanna!” and waving palm branches, and the next, Jesus is alone in the garden while His closest friends fall asleep in the very hour He asked them to watch and pray.
This week reminds us that life is made up of moments like that — the joy and the sorrow, the celebration and the heartbreak, the parade and the cross. And God is present in every one of them.
Today I’m sharing a picture of the olive‑wood Last Supper carving that Mary Fisher’s brother brought her from the Holy Land. There’s something powerful about it being carved from olive wood — the same kind of trees that grew in the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus prayed through the darkest hour of His life.
Those olive wood trees still grow in the Garden of Gethsemane, and some of them old enough to have witnessed Jesus praying there. Olive trees survive fire, drought, and being cut back; they endure, just as Jesus endured the hours ahead. And when I look at the carving, I imagine the simple Passover table — the unleavened bread, the cup of wine, the bitter herbs, the lamb.
Ordinary elements that Jesus transformed into eternal promises.
Remember the post we shared on Friday the 13th? Thirteen at the table — the unlucky number falling on a Friday - the day of the week the Lord was crucified. I look at these faces surrounding Jesus. He knew what was coming. Jesus knew who would betray Him. He knew who would deny Him. He knew who would run. And still… He stayed.
During Lent, instead of giving something up, I’ve been reflecting on time — the moments that shape us and the seasons that grow us. We’ve looked at:
*Washington's time at Valley Forge — truth, adversity, leadership. He stayed.
*Daniel’s time in the lions’ den — courage when you have no choice but to stay.
*Time Change Sunday — the call to wake up and pay attention.
**And then came March 15 — the Ides of March. Not a religious day, but it happened to fall on a Sunday in Lent this year, and it gave us the chance to talk about betrayal, about watching and praying, and about the highs and lows of every journey.
*And last week, we reflected on the preciousness of time through a picture of Marvin’s mother holding him as a newborn after he was born March 22nd...80 years ago. A reminder that every life begins in the arms of someone who loves us. A reminder that a mother’s devotion stays, even when the road is painful. Mary knew Jesus’ days were numbered — and she stayed at the cross.
Next comes Good Friday — the day that doesn’t feel “good” at all until you understand what Jesus accomplished on the cross. The day that time itself seemed to stop. The day heaven held its breath. And in that very hour — when the earth shook, the sky turned black, and hope seemed lost — even the Roman centurion who stood guard at the cross whispered, ‘Surely this was the Son of God.’ A hardened soldier, a man who had witnessed countless deaths, suddenly saw the truth in the darkest moment of time.
And after the cross, we meet Joseph of Arimathea — the quiet, "secret" disciple who stepped forward at just the right moment. The patron saint of funeral directors. The man who had preplanned his own burial by purchasing a garden tomb, never knowing it would first hold the Savior of the world. He showed courage when it mattered most, asking Pilate for Jesus’ body and caring for Him with dignity and love.
But we are Easter people. We know the story isn’t over. We know that joy comes in the morning. We know that Christ’s death and resurrection conquered death for all of us.
So, we stay. We stay through the parade. We stay through the garden. We stay through the cross. We stay through the silence of Saturday. Because we know what’s coming.
Not to steal any thunder from next week’s Easter message… but here’s the plot twist: the stone doesn’t stay where they left it — the story doesn’t end at the grave — and nothing about time is ever the same again.