It’s been a bit quiet over here, I know. What with two sisters and a friend visiting, and days of feeling sort of “off”, I’ve slipped into quiet.
And really, I can’t say that there’s much in me to share today, either, except that I must simply say, I’m so thankful for the cross and the empty grave.
This morning I read Jameson the story of Jesus’ betrayal, arrest, and death. We closed the book at his burial. He was captivated by the pictures (or perhaps my attempts at dramatic reading?), and I was captivated by His love, again.
I know that in the Story, today is yet a somber day, but my soul can’t help but know what’s on the next page: the Risen Savior.
And so I can’t help but begin to rejoice. To weep tears of gratitude for my deliverance, yes, but in those tears, songs of rejoicing are stirring.
Today, a few fresh flowers will be plucked. Tomorrow’s breakfast will be kneaded and braided and baked. Clothes will be ironed and hung, ready. Today, even in my fog of tiredness, the joy of Easter is seeping in, reminding me:
“Be glad, be glad
It’s Easter Day!”