This year Lent, Easter and Holy week have been very different for me.
My mother – in – law died very suddenly. A relationship died suddenly and painfully and our own house was not as secure as we thought.
After a memorable two weeks we were back in the UK and the first Sunday I went back to our church was Palm Sunday. I crept in late and left early. Although I knew her death was a good one and she didn’t suffer much pain, although I knew we had sung and laughed and disputed, it was still strange to go back to a service waving palms and celebrating life that would shortly be gone.
Usually I go to the meditations during the week, very often facilitating one, not this year.
It feels a very quiet reflective Easter this year. I know God is there with me and all the others who are going through difficult times, but it is more than that. It is a thankfulness and acceptance that I don’t have to pretend to smile, that I can just relax and say thank God you’re there, because I can do nothing.
Instead neighbours, friends and colleagues have looked after us, all gone the extra mile, in some cases literally miles to ensure my daughter got to Heathrow.
And given flowers and prayers and emergency boardings and new padlocks.
Christ is Risen