Vigil (a Holy Saturday prayer for pastors)

It’s quiet at the manse.
The flower ladies have come
and gone across the street,
and the banners went up
after evening worship,
a hint of what will come
tomorrow.

Meanwhile,
we sit vigil,
books piled beside
laptops, ideas outlined
in old orders of service,
jelly bean bag nearly
empty.

JonquilsIn the garden,
jonquils half-shadowed
wait expectantly,
trusting the sun
to come again,
to rise in the East
and circle the house.

We wait, too,
half-shadowed,
wanting to do our best
for you on this most
important, most
precious
day-to-come.

Help us to trust,
like the flowers,
that you will rise,
that we will see you again,
that no tomb will
hold your body
for long.

I would love to know your thoughts.

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