And this is the stillness.
This is the quiet in-between.
The moment when creation held it’s breath and we stopped.
Some wondered, some watched.
Some stood and gasped out tears in
This space, empty and full.
Despairing and yet tinged with the refrain of hope.
Hope in what yet might be.
Hope in a tomorrow.
Hope in words lost in the noise.
Hope in the straining to hear the whisper of
A promised return.
We live our Holy Saturdays in this world, full of despair and yet with the hope that only knowledge of the end of the story could bring. We wait in shadows with the women who followed Jesus, we cry and run with the disciples and yet we know the end to this night. We know that dawn will come. Not as an easy platitude that will erase the darkness but as the only light in this world that lasts. Even in the deepest darkness, beyond our feelings, senses or reason remains a solid unquenchable deep truth that holds our life together. Not hiding from the pain but digging to something that goes deeper than this present darkness.
And so we keep walking, we live out our days, until he comes. Until he comes.