It is Easter. He is risen; He is risen indeed.
It's true. I believe it is true.
I choose to believe it is true.
But today was hard; I have felt torn between the already and the not yet.
He is risen, but I am not yet with him.
My husband is there, but I cannot yet go.
I believe, and yet my faith has no sight.
The battle is won, the victory is mine, but I assure you: I am at war.
Where O death is thy sting? Where is thy victory? Oh, I feel your bitter sting, your intrusion upon my life. It sure feels like you're winning, or at least you gloat like you are.
Celebration happened all around me, and yet I really just longed to be where the real celebration happened today.
My mind knows how to celebrate, but my heart could not partake.
Perhaps this is the Easter when it all should mean so much more to me, when it should all make so much more sense.
Instead, I felt numb. Broken. Torn.
Torn between the already and the not yet.