We are done with the difficult worship: the last supper, the blackness of Good Friday, and the prep for Easter is mostly over: the lillies are lined up and ready, the Easter banners are up, and this morning, we’ll unleash a herd of kids for an easter egg hunt in the church (outside, normally, but inside today because we’ve got 5 inches of snow).

Zora is with grandma and grandpa, and her Easter dress is ready folded neatly in her bag with tights and shoes and everything she needs to look pretty. I have a new blouse to wear with my gray suit. My prayer for Easter morning is written. There are no youth group meetings tomorrow. The only left for me is to bake a cake for family dinner tomorrow. I should probably clean…I’ve got the chance and there are a few corners that could use it.

After two days filled with church work and worship preparation, it feels off to have a day filled with ordinary things.  Shouldn’t we all be huddled at home, or maybe packing off to a monastic retreat?

It seems strange: today, we go about our business and wait for tomorrow.  I wonder: if the men ran from the cross, scared, confused, afraid, if they scattered and regathered in hidden rooms, if they couldn’t bring themselves to come out until Jesus came and beckoned them, they did something out of the ordinary those days. A horrible, sick-to-your-stomach out of the ordinary. But something to acknowledge the event none-the-less.

But the women, the ones who stayed at the cross, the Marys who helped prepare the body, the followers who were tied to homes and couldn’t follow, there were things they had to do, everyday tasks that had to be done, children to bathe and meals to cook, floors to sweep, friends to visit, bread to bake. And they did those things in a fog (not knowing what Sunday morning would bring), but they did them. Like breathing, going on with what had to be done.

2 Responses to “Saturday”

  1. viv Says:

    Thanks for this blog, Erica. I appreciate your theological insights as well as the Zora stories!

  2. terry Says:

    I admit it ‘men are whimps and women are the tough ones. Great service, you have a great voice for presentation and we can tell it comes from the heart.