I am trying to live in the present.
I am trying to live in the present while living social distancing and pandemic caution.
I am trying to live in the present while taping worship services days ahead of when they will be shared.
Maundy Thursday was taped on Tuesday and Good Friday was taped two days before Good Friday.
The joy of Easter was taped on Good Friday.
I am trying to live in the present and my soul is so confused because the rhythm of Holy Week has become scrambled and I am feeling it all at once. There is no time for my soul to pause and digest.
As I have gone about this whirled week, I am feeling the grief of the so-much of this.
I ache for the community that stories my life.
I ache for my children and grandchildren and friends and I ache for the people whose lives are twined into my heart. I miss my church. I miss the varieties of ways people show up and I miss the connection that happens through and among us and I miss laughter and tears and I was distracting myself through these first furiously busy weeks of setting up this pandemic life and the grief was kept at bay.
Until this Holy Week.
This week, we who follow Jesus long to kneel at the feet of our friends.
This week, despair and betrayal are named and the visceral need to share the communion of grief finds no catharsis in community.
This week, the Holy Saturday grief and stagger of those long ago disciples lives so fully in our souls.
This Holy Week I am trying to live in the present.
Whatever – and all – that it is.