Notices

The morning seemed all wrong, nothing was as it should be. It all felt so cruelly surreal, a deep sense of tragedy, emptiness and loss all about her; shock and trauma enveloping her thoughts as she relived moment by moment, the horror of Friday. Cold, thick tears like sludge filled her belly. He’d gone. Her Lord, her teacher, her friend – the one who had made her feel loved and valued again, had given her back her life, her identity. Gone. But, in moments she would be close to him again and express her love and gratitude one last time, a precious goodbye.

Her legs weighed heavily as she walked the last steps to the tomb early that Sunday morning. The birdsong was an ugly intrusion, inappropriate, out of tune. To get to where he was, was all she could focus on. But, the entrance to the tomb was a shocking, open, gaping mouth; he wasn’t there. Things weren’t right. A sick joke. Panic overtook grief now, heart pounding, tears fogging her vision, thoughts racing as she stood looking in at the darkness … two figures were in that empty, echoing space, one asks her, “Woman, why are you crying?” How do they not understand? “They’ve taken him and I don’t know where he is.” Out of the corner of her eye, behind her, a gardener is standing, asking the same question, “Woman,why are you crying? Who are you looking for?“ He must know something, “Where is he? Sir, where has he been taken to? Do you know?” In his eyes, love, sympathy, understanding, connection, “Mary”. Something in the way he said her name, so beautifully familiar. She caught her breath, and cried, “Rabboni!”. Grief began to subside and in it’s place, a rush of deep healing joy.

The storm calmed once again at his voice.