About a week after my mother-in-law died, I went by her house to borrow her sieve. Every year, my daughter and I borrow grandma’s sieve to make applesauce. Then we take some applesauce back to her. I was hoping the sieve was still there. I knew my mother-in-law was gone, but I wanted to find the sieve. Maybe it was still in the house.
Easter Sunday is glorious. But the most important Sundays come afterward, when we are left—as were
Jesus' disciples—with the sense that nothing can ever be the same.