It has been a quiet Holy Week.

Tomorrow the Christian world will sing and shout praise to God made Man and Resurrected, and the incredible story of the sacrifice of the Father and the love of the Son willing to lay down his life will be told yet again.

In my own way, I will offer up my sacrifice, as my need for Grace and Mercy is ever present. I am thankful that he loved enough and loves still.

But tomorrow for some will be a day not filled with joy and glory, but loss and loneliness and pain. My own sister lost her husband today, and now this Easter and all to come will be a reminder of the day a woman became widow, and children lost their daddy.

For some, the memory of wounds inflicted by those who profess to represent the Resurrected One will reopen yet again. I know this pain, and this stone is unmoving. No angels rush to roll it away.

Resurrection Sunday is a glorious day, so sing and shout and weep and pray. The tomb is empty. But be mindful of those who stand bound by hurt and pain and loss.

There is no shame for those who are empty, and mourn and lament even on Easter.

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