- Apr 7
This past Sunday, there were visible, audible signs of GRIEF. It was obvious that members of LCM were suffering. Beginning with the loss of a sister or a brother, or LCM’s own Dale Newell, or a cat named “Missy,” clearly, an accumulation of losses needed to be poured out. I was touched by the love in the room, the hugs exchanged, the tears released, and the words “peace be with you” spoken.
Sheri wrote a poem in 2019 for Easter Sunday about GRIEF. Her focus was upon the women who visited Christ’s tomb early that morning, as recorded in the Gospel of Luke, “women, whose own bodies bore the crush of grief.” She likened the spices the women brought to the tomb as “memories they wanted to preserve, only to find that everything that once meant everything is missing” (empty tomb).
The poem is entitled ‘The Long Pause’ of the women who sat in an empty tomb uncertain about the future, about the traumatic unknown of “who they are now.” It is within this long pause that the women wonder if “life will rise in them again.” Sheri confesses that she camped out in the empty tomb for a long time. “I ignored various angels in varying attire who tried to reach me. Wouldn’t life be easier if the guides who show up now and again wore dazzling clothing or carried signs or something? Maybe I’m denser than most, but I rarely recognize the angels or the guides in the moment, only in hindsight, only when I am looking back at the empty tomb, grateful to no longer inhabit it. What I mean to say is: I know the empty tomb well.”
EASTER SUNDAY arrives on April 20th. For over 2,000 years, believers have gathered around the mystery of Christ’s resurrection, having been drawn into the worship space to sing once again, Jesus Christ is Risen Today. But many of us are in the middle of a “long pause,” stuck with our GRIEF in the empty tomb “where you go when God is missing. When you are there – or when you suffer with someone who is – you can’t believe, won’t believe, don’t have the energy to believe … or imagine … that anything new or good or even worth getting-up-in-the-morning-for could ever, EVER come of this. When you’re there – at the empty tomb – when you can’t sing Alleluia, you’ve got to trust someone else is singing Alleluia for you. You’ve got to trust that. With your life.”
Watch for the final segment of her poem in a future Thursday Thought. I write this monthly word with a humble invitation for you to join me on Easter Sunday and sing Alleluia one more time. And to know that those of us who can sing are singing for those who can’t just yet. Blessings!