Disciples, Apostles, and Saints!
Something is blooming that is messing with sinuses. This is the time in spring in which sleeping can be difficult. I only got about four hours of sleep last night.
Even as I write this at the start of Holy Week, I feel the tiredness of Easter. Not the tiredness of Holy Week, mind you. That’s a whole other thing for us. But the tiredness that Mary would be feeling that morning. How fitful her sleep must have been. How difficult it would be to get motivated. How reluctant she must be to visit the tomb.
And this has me thinking of our own weariness that we feel compelled to banish because it’s Easter and that’s not allowed!
Even as parents have wrestled kids into clothes they don’t want to wear, brush their hair (even though it hurts), and, if they’ve got some real stamina, made them brush their teeth!
The weariness of those who have lost their closest friend, or miss their families, or the chronically tired who thought maybe this day would be better than it is.
There’s a weariness that accompanies us into Easter that we rarely talk about. As if we’re not allowed. But it’s also a weariness that can so easily evaporate (given the right conditions). Not forced happiness. But startling, surprising joy. Hope. Fellowship. A laugh, a trumpet, a smile. Expecting death and being once again surprised with life.