My God, I am at a loss...a loss of words to speak of that which tore out my heart. How can one speak if she has not a heart to inspire her words? This I learned from the Teacher - to allow my heart to give birth to my words.
Again, my God, how do I speak? How do I think? Surely, no language contains words to describe what I feel on this Sabbath. No mind can grasp what has happened over these past two days - from the preparations for the Passover to the absence of the Teacher. For generations, this time of year, this festival symbolized what? I know not. Confusion consumes me. Is it grief or lack of sleep? Does it matter?
Last night, was not for sleeping. Sleep is for those who need rest for tomorrow's purpose. Nor was the night for dreaming. Dreams are for those who have hope for what the new day brings. The night and the day have become as one. They are only for ashes and sackcloth as we mourn this nightmare that is our reality. The Teacher is dead.
For so long, my thoughts have been of what to do for Yeshua. Even now, having touched his lifeless form, I wonder how to serve him. With sunset nearly upon us, his burial was so hasty - too hasty. He is worthy of so much more. I will see that things are done properly in the morn.
Yes, I will gather spices to anoint his body. I will journey to the tomb before daybreak. Certainly, the other women will journey with me. If we leave just before the sun kisses the horizon, we will have the full day to serve him once more.
Again, my God, how do I speak? How do I think? Surely, no language contains words to describe what I feel on this Sabbath. No mind can grasp what has happened over these past two days - from the preparations for the Passover to the absence of the Teacher. For generations, this time of year, this festival symbolized what? I know not. Confusion consumes me. Is it grief or lack of sleep? Does it matter?
Last night, was not for sleeping. Sleep is for those who need rest for tomorrow's purpose. Nor was the night for dreaming. Dreams are for those who have hope for what the new day brings. The night and the day have become as one. They are only for ashes and sackcloth as we mourn this nightmare that is our reality. The Teacher is dead.
For so long, my thoughts have been of what to do for Yeshua. Even now, having touched his lifeless form, I wonder how to serve him. With sunset nearly upon us, his burial was so hasty - too hasty. He is worthy of so much more. I will see that things are done properly in the morn.
Yes, I will gather spices to anoint his body. I will journey to the tomb before daybreak. Certainly, the other women will journey with me. If we leave just before the sun kisses the horizon, we will have the full day to serve him once more.
--A follower of Yeshua
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