Sounds of Easter

The morning air is full of sounds.  Maybe it is easier to hear because of the misty clouds lingering upon the heavy morning moisture on the ground.  Sounds.  Reverberating.  Echoing.  Racing along the ground and in the air to ears of those who have ears to hear.  Women sniffling through tears.  Whispered muted voices.  Feet dragging on worn dirt.  Tree branches suddenly moving over shaking earth.  Stones moving and lodging in new resting places.  Bodies collapsing, thudding hard against shaking ground.  Untended fire hissing in smoke.  Tentative birds launching the morning's first song.

 

The loud demanding voices of women.  Thumping hearts. Spice bag falling to ground.  Gentle voices of angels.  Breath being taken away in surprise.  Running feet breaking the morning stillness.  Hard tortured gasping for air.  Soft murmurs inside the tomb.  Moisture dripping.  Cold air settling.  Hard sobs of grief.  Echoes.

The voices.  The words.  Heavenly angels and resurrected Son.  'He is not here, but has risen."  "Why are you weeping?" "Do not be afraid."  "He has been raised as He said."   "You will see Him."  "Mary."   Indeed, there is much to hear.  There are sounds not yet heard, but waiting to be heard by the seeking heart.  Listen.  Hear.  From a place where only whispers are heard, there is a loud victorious Word being shouted for all the world to hear.  Jesus is risen.  As Mary heard her name on the lips of the resurrected Son, let us listen for ours.  It is a name and a Word we will surely hear if we but still our souls and listen.