We didn't know that my mom had called while we were out.
We didn't know what news was awaiting us as we walked in the door.
We didn't know that the next 20 days would be a living hell.
We simply didn't know.
There lots of things that over time you forget. You forget what you wore the first day of school during your senior year of high school. You forget how nervous you were on the first day of your first job. You forget the anxiety you felt waiting for the phone to ring from 'that guy you met'. And you forget how difficult the recovery was when your first baby was born.
But you never forget what it felt like when you found out someone you loved was in the hospital and it didn't look good. And you never forget thinking you'll wake up from the nightmare that wasn't a dream but reality. And you never forget the reaction you had when someone died.
There aren't a lot of hours between Friday afternoon and Sunday morning. But I'd bet for Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of Jesus, and His closest friends they felt like an eternity. I wonder if they cried themselves to sleep Friday and laid in bed longer staring at the walls on Saturday before they found the strength to get up. I wonder if they passed people on the road and looked completely withdrawn....if their eyes were red and swollen.....if their hearts looked clearly broken......if they wondered how they would ever go on. I wonder what thoughts they were thinking, what plans they were making, what comfort they were seeking. Did they cry out asking God why, did they shake their fists saying they didn't understand, did they - if even for a moment - second guess what they heard and believed?
But Sunday was coming. Fast, furious, and without hesitation. And on that day they would celebrate, His Name they would elevate, and the rest of their lives they would dedicate to spreading His message. Because death could not hold Him, the grave could not contain Him, and sin could not defeat Him. Because His Name is Jesus and Sunday was coming.