Yet. Not Yet.

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Oh how I am ready for Easter tomorrow morning at First Congregational Church of Los Angeles. Joy. Music. Laughter. Enough fragrance from the flowers to open a perfume factory. We’re all in need of resurrection, and the eternal greening of our souls marked with the arrival of spring.

Yet . . . Not yet . . .

Yesterday was Good Friday and contemplating the suffering of Jesus, which is the suffering of God, was almost too much. Good Friday never stops, because human anguish never stops.

But what about Saturday? Most of us are living in between something. In between a relationship. In between jobs. In between pay checks. Tomorrow is Easter. But most of us live in the Saturday time of yet-not-yet.

And so we Take a Breath during the yet-not-yet times. We center ourselves with prayer. We remember again that we are daughters and sons of God. We Take a Breath, trusting that even breathing is a prayer. We trust the silent working of something in our lives. Like yeast in dough or like a pearl quietly forming within the darkness of an oyster shell.

We keep living and waiting. We keep waiting and living. It’s Saturday. And it’s okay.

 

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