strange how the world adjusts.
it rolls on, forgetful of the significance of a day.
easter is over.
chocolate bunnies eaten. hams consumed. travels to family done.
monday- back to work, world.
but in my heart, it's easter always.
the lingering fragrance of a risen Lord, his robes perfumed with the scent of a heavenly place, is still here.
the 40 days he walked among the citizens of jerusalem are still a mystery.
the dead who rose from their graves and lived again, returning to homes and families who had all but forgotten them, - well, this is just a huge mystery.
wish i'd been there...to see it all.
i wrote this when i was about 12 or 13...and i still sense the incredible aura of hope and disbelief that must have been in that moment of recognition.
She crept, weary from the night of aching sorrow,
Her heart heavy with the dark of despair,
Into the field where the tomb was.
The morning dew was cool on her sandaled feet,
And the rising sun slanted golden rays
On the stone.
She bowed her head
And wept for Christ.
A sudden Presence
Rustled at her side.
She whispered, thinking
It was the gardener.
“He is gone, sir!”
But the birds overhead were silent,
The breeze stilled.
She looked up, and as she gazed
Her face grew light
With the dawn of Easter joy.
Jesus said, “Mary!”