O God, I long to sit with Saturday, This in-between time, When the weight of Good Friday sinks in. But so often this day gets away from me. It turns into a time to rehearse Sunday’s refrains, A time to clean the house, to hide eggs, to pick up those last few items at the store. It doesn’t feel like Holy Saturday. The weight of Good Friday has already started to lift, Except for my lingering headache. What a quick switch from death to almost resurrection. I find it a little upsetting. The disciples long along didn’t see Easter coming The way we do now. They had to sit with Saturday. So, who are we to move on so quickly? How can we honor this day? God, I’m trying to find an answer to that question. If I’ve been insensitive or unfaithful, forgive me. Amen.