"Have you had more Good Fridays than Easter Sundays in your life?"
A benign question posed by the pastor at the very beginning of an Easter service. An overcrowded church. Music plays. A baby cries two rows back.
And inside me... joy and regret and love and pain and indescribable gratitude converge. And the tears that fell were so big that I could hear them splash onto my dress.
1 comment:
I wondered why those tears were coming down like rain. And you still haven't told me why, only that you were ok.
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