The purgatorial period between Good Friday and Easter was always one of suspense and tension in my childhood home. The kids among us were usually just thrilled to be on Easter recess, but in the oppressively-Catholic atmosphere of our house, the apparent death of Jesus and the impending resurrection left us in a state of limbo. Even when our favorite Uncle would visit, there was a halting aspect to our celebration, the way death hangs over everything when it touches us.
The weather being so volatile and variable at this time of the year, and the date of Easter always switching from early to late to everything in-between, also wreaked havoc with one set of scenes or circumstances. We’d vacillate between days outside in mud and rain, to days inside with snow and sleet, to days outside in sun and splendor, to days inside in peaceful slumber. Sometimes there would be violets already in bloom, other times there would be snow on the ravaged tips of barely-rising daffodils. Everything seemed to be in a suspended state of indecision.
So it is on this Saturday, as we wait in joyful hope of His coming, an eternal reminder and symbol of returning hope, the way spring always comes back, the way summer follows suit. Amen and Halleluh!
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