I am sitting in what feels like a wave of darkness. I know. I know. Morning will come. The sun will rise. Jesus is Lord.
But right now I am sitting in the darkness and as a woman of color, an immigrant, an alien, I am intimately familiar with this space.
When Jesus breathed his final breath on that cross “many women were there watching from a distance. They had followed Jesus from Galilee to care for his needs.”
Women sat and waited opposite the tomb. I do not need the text to tell me they cried. I know. Women, we know. We know they cried. We know they wanted to hope while they processed their grief and fear. We know because we do this emotional and spiritual heavy-lifting often in silence. Often in darkness. Waiting.
So, dear sisters. Let’s sit together and cry and grieve and tell stories and wait and laugh and get angry and give language to our confusion and sorrow. Let’s sit together and wait for the angels to give us our next steps because we know in the morning whether it’s tomorrow or down the road the angels will tell us to come and see and go quickly.
It’s not over. But I’m OK sitting here tonight in tears and darkness.