Jesus,

You died and still we wait. I feel myself lurching towards Sunday. There is less than an hour before today becomes tomorrow and my heart strains toward it knowing that tomorrow is where resurrection lies, but it is cheating. We are still waiting, through the watches of the night, until the women come in the morning to find you gone, until Mary Magdalene questions the gardener and he says her name and she knows, until the Good News is proclaimed by the women you cherished. But tonight we wait. Tonight we don’t know. Tonight is another night of grief and fear and darkness, and the wild and unimaginable light to come could not even be glimpsed in the distance. Holy Saturday means we keep breathing our way through, even when we don’t know where through leads, even when we are crushed by grief, even when we are cowering in fear, even when all is surely lost. We breathe and survive and some nights that is an unfathomable miracle all on its own. Some nights it is more than enough. Amen.

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