The light keeps lifting the dark

After one son and his dad return from the E.R., and as her preeclampsia sister remains in the hospital, Ann Voskamp serves a Resurrection Sunday meal for fifteen, realizing that

We now get to live secure through family messes and wearying trials and bloody places because nothing could secure that tomb.

We can live secure through anything now because nothing could secure that tomb.

And I scrawl it across on a chalkboard on the Monday: The way we roll — is that the stone’s been rolled away.

The sun slants warm across the lawn, across the planked floors and I go ahead and just leave a stone out on the counter, there by the worn out old cutting boards.

The practice of your faith every day is the practice of resurrection in everything.

And the light keeps lifting the dark right there across the cut up old cutting boards, like a cracking back of the black.

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