Today will be my last post here for this season. I am not even adding today in the count down. My Lenten season countdown ended yesterday. But today is something I still want to write about. Today is where I live.
I grew up going to church at least four times over the the Easter weekend. Once on Thursday, once on Friday and twice on Sunday. Five times if one included the Lenten Wednesday service. Needless to say... for a youth, it was harrowing. But one day stood out in that week. It was Saturday. We had a reprieve from church. It was breathing space for a girl who went to church because it was required of her, but she rarely if ever voiced her inner discontent with it.
I never spent much time wondering what Saturday was all about. Why didn't that day deserve a service of some kind? Why didn't the people gather and reflect on what that space in between death and life meant. We never talked about it. We just saw "death" and then waited for "life" because it came every year. There was no sadness because "death" was not permanent.
This religious event in my life didn't teach me about the reality of death. When death came in my life, there wasn't life in two days. There was sadness and sorrow and pain and heartache and Saturday existed where Sunday did not.
Now I have the freedom to sit in Saturday. I will let Sunday go as if it were another day of the week. I let the loss permeate my being and I find meaning in what is now Sacred to me.
I do want to send out a special thank you to all my AFL sojourners. Your words and companionship have been a great part of this journey. Thank you for your wisdom and vulnerability. Thank you for being available to listen and love. Thank you!
