This is one of my favorite times of the year. Spring has sprung. The sun starts warming up the earth and my heart. Dinner can be served on the patio. The BBQ gets fired up more often. A cold beer means something. Easter, one of my favorite holidays, is celebrated in my home.
There have been many things said about Good Friday. Sermons have been told on the suffering of Christ and how that compares to the sufferings here in life. Books have been written about the dark night of the soul; the moments that just seem too much for one to handle. We have all lived these seasons. Each one of us has suffered. Some have had to bury children. Some have had a spouse leave or are forced to leave an abusive spouse. Children have made life changing choices that we have had to watch with great sadness. Cancer has taken a friend. Families have been estranged from each other for years. Friendships have been broken permanently.
And for every story told about Friday, there are twice as many stories on the hope of Easter Sunday. That day that everything seems new. The days that are filled with great hope. There are moments in life that feel like Resurrection Day itself. The birth of a baby. That moment you say, “I do”. Kisses from your dirty faced toddler. Celebrations with friends. Families finding healing and forgiveness. When cancer can no longer be found.
But what if you aren’t in a season of great suffering and still life doesn’t feel all that hopeful? What if darkness just seems to surround you while life still moves on? What if you are in a season of Holy Saturday?
To be honest, Saturday is the day that brings me the most questions. Jesus has died and is buried. What were the disciples thinking? After all, these men had quit their jobs, left home and followed a man who was now dead. Did they just sit at home wondering if it was all worth it? Did they look back at all their choices and question everything? Or, did they know somewhere, deep in their soul, that everything was going just as planned and still allowed this great cloud of questions and fear loom over them?
Part of me hopes so. Part of me hopes I am just stuck on Saturday. You see, there is nothing really wrong with my life. I have amazing parents that love me and care for me. I have a husband that treats me with such gentleness, kindness, and love that I sometimes wonder if I deserve it. I have amazing children that are kind, loving and live life with great joy. I have amazing girlfriends that would blow your mind. People wish for one great friend… I have several. I have a beautiful home. I put good food on the table each week for my family and never wonder if we will be hungry.
But still, my heart aches. My mind wonders and I ask questions. Have I made the right choices? Have I given enough to my children? Are my big mistakes in life so big that I will never feel freedom from them? Is the pain that my husband caused something that my heart will ever fully recover from? Can I move on from the sufferings of all my painful Fridays and get to the hope of Sunday morning?
The only way I can move from the darkness and questions of Saturday is to be brave enough to move on to the hope of Sunday. I can’t go back and change my life. I can only go forward to the life awaiting me. And what is waiting for me?
Tears wiped away.
My mourning turned to dancing.
So I will find the courage to live each day, because my Sunday? Well, it is coming.
I am writing today with an amazing group of women. For more on hope, please click on through to Cissy’s blog post.
such a beautiful post…the dark beauty of those flowers perfectly represents your words. (And oh my the bokehliciousness!)
Thank you! x
I’ve had this page open on my computer since you posted it. So good! Ah – this life! Your words remind me of these words from my favorite author, Frederick Buechner: “The world is full of dark shadows, to be sure, both the world without and the world within … But praise and trust him too for the knowledge that what’s lost is nothing to what’s found, and that all the dark there ever was, set next to light, would scarcely fill a cup.”