Sweet Jesus,
The anticipation of your return has been so very palpable all day! I've barely been able to concentrate because I've so been looking forward to this evening's celebration of Easter!
It reminds me of waiting for Spencer to return from Afghanistan. I didn't write to him every day (or nearly enough) but I thought of him constantly. I saw reminders of him everywhere. I hugged strangers in uniform because I missed him so much. (As it turns out, soldiers don't really mind this, as they are usually far from their own mothers also.)
It's also like the anticipation I shared with Misty and the kids waiting for Jordan to return from Korea. We counted down the days, then hours, then minutes.
We watched airplanes touch down, and we knew the wait was over, and we'd soon be holding our loved ones in our arms. We shared this anticipation with groups of others waiting for the same thing! A return that was triumphant! It's the same thing waiting for Easter.
My beloved Jesus, you were gone. The depth and reality of that was only really known to your mother and your best friends, the apostles. Even though you told them over and over what would happen, it was so radical, they didn't understand. I have only ever lived with the knowledge of you as a Risen Lord. Crucified, yes, but I already knew what comes next. When I think of the desolation they must have felt it's overwhelming! Then you did the most amazing thing.
You returned.
And tonight, the whole world rejoiced with me! We sang the best songs! We lit the most candles! Mary's beloved son came back from a war zone! (Kinda like Spencer!) The scary part had passed!
You returned from a foreign place where you made a HUGE impact to return to the ones who love you the most and count you as one of their family (Kinda like Jordan, except you were in Hell, and Jordan had music, buddies and bulgogi). Still! There was much rejoicing!!!
You returned to me! My heart sings!
Lent was a time to prepare, and tonight you came home! We sang songs of praise, which we will continue as we celebrate all day Sunday, and on for the next 8 days. (We Catholics know how to celebrate!) I just want to shout ALLELUIA from the rooftops!
This will be my last love letter this Lent. Although really, I hope that I can love you in a way that makes every day of my life a love letter to you. I hope my actions and my words, my intentions and interactions with others speak volumes of our love. Writing to you every night has made me want to include you more perfectly into all that I do. Let me be one with you, so that what you do, I also do. What you want, I also want. Who you love, I also love.
Thank you for coming back. (Insert me grinning like an idiot! A really happy love-idiot!)
Love Forever,
Me.
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