Holy Saturday.
The in between. The day after the shock and trauma of death.
The waking up, if sleep was had at all, to the brief hope that it was all a nightmare. Then the dawning thud of reality. He's not coming home. She's not coming home. Life as we know it has fundamentally shifted. We will never be the same.
The Day After.
The beginning of the long journey of grief. Where the sharp, piercing stabs of loss and pain will gradually yield to a dull ache. Where living is re-framed with absence. Where we wonder if we will ever be whole again.
The Day After.
Loss of a friend. A parent. A sibling. A spouse. Life changed.
Or perhaps the loss of a dream. The shock of realizing life will not move forward in the direction you always faced. A fundamental shift. Loss of a home to fire. Loss of a job. The ending of a business.
The Day After.
Holy Saturday. We know from 2000 years of perspective that Easter is coming, but the disciples did not. The followers of Jesus, stunned and confused, did not. The work being done to secure salvation behind the scenes was hidden to them. Only loss, pain, confusion, betrayal. No sense of the way forward. Stunned. Silenced.
The Day After.
This snapshot of history is contained for us in a 3 day reflection. Hope resurrected in just a weekend. Friday's here, but Sunday's a coming so the old sermon goes.
Yet often this "day after" is a much longer season. Grieving is lengthened. The journey of loss to hope is not overcome in a weekend. Our "day after" might be a year, or three years, or some other time frame yet undetermined before clarity comes. Before hope is glimpsed.
And so we remain in the "day after" longer than we would choose. Yet even so, Easter morning will come. A new day will come. Hope will triumph. The journey will be completed.
