Debrief on Holy Saturday

It’s officially Holy Saturday, I’m pretty sure. The days have run together for nearly two weeks now. I woke up before my alarm, again. I normally pride myself as being a sleep champion, being able to fall asleep fast and stay asleep, deeply (it’s a bit annoying, I know). But my body has been lashing out at night and I’m jerking awake, quite frequently. So, I’m awake contemplating my faith, Holy Saturday and how sad it all feels this early morning. And I’m taken back to March 27th, after the students were reunited with their parents, after we (faculty and staff) could finally let our shoulders and faces fall, devastated, I kept saying, “I’m so sad. I’m just so sad. I’m really sad.” After our staff and faculty debrief, Phil picked me up and I wept. The deaths and names associated with those deaths were confirmed for us before we walked out the door. “Babe, I’m sad. I’m so sad. I’m just so sad.” were the words on repeat through my uncontrollable tears. 

Then the funerals came. Most of them asking us to wear pinks and purples and blues. “BRIGHT COLORS, please”, asked the parents of the three 3rd grade babies. And we did, we showed up in our brightest. I attended four of the six funerals and I felt like I experienced four Easters in the process. The stuffed animals to squeeze, the flowers to behold, the beautiful sea of support wearing the most beautiful attire. I left the funerals bathed in hope, deeply unwaveringly proud of my friends, because in their despair they showed us that Easter is real.  

Being sad is always a part of Easter, a part that can easily be swept under the rug cause honestly it sucks. Good Friday and Holy Saturday always come first and I generally really don’t like them. Every year I look forward to Easter, but often forget about the days leading up to it. Somehow I feel surprised at how hopeless I can feel. But grief and hope belong together, sadness and joy embrace each other, paving the way for a depth of human experience that cannot be manufactured any other way. I am cracked wide open to receive, and I believe my path through grief to healing will enable me to give back to the world. I’m claiming a future with a GREAT sense of hope. An unshakable hope.