Lent has been a long six weeks
of prayer,
of going to Mass when I can
and of giving up
some of my favourite things
as I try to deepen my awareness
of the presence of My God
in myself, in others
and in the Eucharist.

Then the Easter Ceremonies began.

On Holy Thursday
I was reminded of the humility of Jesus
when he placed himself, the master,
at the service of others
as he washed the feet
of his disciples.
I was reminded of the generosity of Jesus
as he made himself available
to every single one of us
through his institution
of the Eucharist.

On Good Friday
I relieved the torture, agony,
brokenness and humiliation
of Jesus
as he endured the torment of crucifixion
for me.

Now it’s Easter Saturday,
a long day, without ceremonies
and without guidance.
I feel that I have been cut adrift,
lost somewhere between
the agonising passion of Jesus
and the joy of his Resurrection.

So, on Easter Saturday,
I kneel in prayer,
in the church of St Mary
in Fanavolty
and I wait
because I don’t know
what else to do.

© Claire Murray