After the busyness of Good Friday filled with walks, baking hot cross buns, making Easter gardens and retelling the familiar stories, we then come to today. A day of nothing. A day of waiting. A day of holding space. Too late to say anything we might have wanted to say. Too soon to do something that might help us grieve. And the day can feel like forever.

Easter Saturday epitomises the many times in our lives we have to wait –and these times of lockdown are yet another one of these times –if extraordinary of its kind. We may fill the waiting time with tasks that must be done, or with things we would otherwise not choose... but amidst the time –whether full or not, we wait. We wait for more than life to resume as it once was... we wait for new life, when we have a chance to live differently.

A poem:

How long can Easter Saturday last? Waiting for the rock to be moved for life and love to be fully entered What angel will move the rock So I in tears might see what is before me

And so as we journey, drawing so close to the beginning, .I light a candle beside my seventh square –the one that is completely dark… the place I must remain for a time.