"He is risen; he is not here."
This week I wept for the suffering my Lord endured on my behalf,
and felt the small arms of my son as he wiped away my tears.
This week I felt the warm breeze and was reminded of the Holy Spirit.
This week I said many prayers with very few words, mostly "thank you" and "I love you."
I sunk my hands in the dirt and marveled at the new life springing forth, the un-imaginable artistry of God.
I carried a sleepy Ella from her car seat and we paused to gaze at a magical sky of quickly shifting purple clouds over a glowing moon-lit sky and I watched her smile when I told her maybe God made it so glorious because He knew she'd be looking up.
This week I kissed her soft little face.
I smiled in the car when Juden excitedly announced, "Mama, I can see heaven!" when the sunbeams burst through the clouds at sunset.
I filled my table with perfect fragrant magnolia blooms that I knew would only last for a moment.
This week I am overwhelmed by the beauty and compassion of Jesus.
This week I remember that the tomb was empty and look forward to the joy of the morning.