Just Us

A name. Have you read of that woman Strong shoulders hunched over with the weight of the grief she carries. Her tears, long steady streams Reach the puddles at her dusty feet. She stands frozen outside the tomb. I wonder about her thoughts How did she spend those three days before standing in that holy place? Had her days turned into nights Only marked by the light and the darkness returning. Did she question, Did the fear tighten in her chest? Were her eyes swollen and tender for the billion tears she had cried. Yet she walked to the tomb that holy day One foot in front of the other And again, She wept. He was gone. Two angels in white ask, Why the tears woman? Who are you looking for? Not recognizing His voice at first She pleas to be told where He has gone "I will get him" she says "Tell me where" Mary. One name and it is hers. Spoken by the one she is looking for And she knows She is known. Desperately grasping, she tries to h...

It’s late Monday night. I’ve tossed and turned and cannot seem to slow the pace of my mind enough to drift off to sleep.   This is so not like me.  I’m usually in bed by 9:30 most nights, as soon as my head hits the pillow after a full day of teaching. So much of this life as a teacher is nothing like it was 3 weeks ago.  Wow...3 weeks, has it really been three weeks already?!! Crazy, it was really just three weeks ago that I lie awake, my chest tight with worry and guilt about how rushed the day seemed with my kindergarteners.  My last day with my students before our school shut their doors was sadly a scattered mess of paper packets and a mad rush to load bookmarks and logins to student chromebooks. I sent those little 5 and 6 year olds out the door with a weighted down backpack and more questions than answers, fighting back tears of my own. “When will we be back Mrs. Hutchings? Why are you sending these workbooks home today? We still have so many pages left to...