Friday was dark. Dreary. Depressing. Hope was lost, condemned to die and nailed to a cross.
Saturday was quiet. Eerie. Waiting. Wondering. Hearts sank as the loneliness crept in.
Sunday was curious. Amongst empty tombs, Jesus-less linens and rolled away stones, hope spiked, if only for an instant. Commotion stirred. Wise men doubted what they desperately wanted to believe.
On Sunday, weeping women were met on the path by a risen savior.
And the new day was here.
There is hope and predictability in the seasons- I love that I can depend on them to do their thing even when I find that my life is changing like shifting sand. It's good to know the dogwood still blooms, the robins return and the weather gets warmer.
Just like last year.
I believe God build predictability and stability into His creation to remind us that He is never-changing. The sun rises, the sun sets, the stars come out. Same routine day after day. (thank goodness for that.) Everything that He has made is always on time; rarely early, never late.
But always on time.
The occurences of nature and creation reassure me as I look out the window of my sometimes crazy life and see that around me, all is as it should be because God has it under control.
It is then that I realize I can give him my finite problems, broken relationships and daily stresses.
He seems to be able to keep the earth rotating on his axis without any help from me.
But I would have a hard time keeping my world from spinning out of control without a lot of help from Him.