I’ve tried to write this several times, and the words have never come out right. So, instead of doing the typical thing and criticizing my thoughts and feelings until I never write them, I’m going to just let it out and see where it lands. This is important to me, and I think it could be useful or helpful to someone.

I grew up in the church. Holidays were a very big deal and I took them very seriously. But of all the holidays, Easter was my favorite. Sure, going with dad to sunrise services meant being at the church around 3am, but what was there stopping me from celebrating the best holiday in the best ways?

After all, what could you dislike about Easter? Even without the candy and the presents, Easter remained my favorite holiday. There was a certain something about the message of Easter that kept me going. In church, we think about hearing of the resurrection. We think about hope. New Birth. New Life. New Beginnings. An inherent knowledge that everything was going to be ok because nothing could stop the resurrection. Therefore, nothing could stop us from achieving new life and all of the great things in store.

Don’t get me wrong, that’s a great message. But it’s a hard message to believe as I’ve gotten older (and I’ve barely begun to live life, so I know it probably won’t get easier). With everything I’ve endured and everything going on in the world, a message of hope doesn’t sound right. How can you sit there and tell me that there is new hope and new life when I’m shrouded in darkness.

Even with all of my doubts and hesitations, Easter remains towards the top of my list of favorites. But not for any of the traditional reasons. I have found a certain comfort in the sadness of Easter. I have found comfort in mourning everything that has ended.

We focus so hard on the new life and the new life and new beginnings of Easter, but we forget what makes new things “new.” In order for something to be new, the old must pass. The old things/ways/beliefs/journeys must end so that we can have something new. Before we step into the light of the new beginnings, we have to allow ourselves the space to mourn what we’ve lost. Without the space and time to grieve the old, we will never be able to fully accept or appreciate the new.

Of course, this is easier said than done. There are days I would rather curl up into a ball and sink into the floor. There are days the past swallows me up and I don’t think I’ll ever move on. But I find peace in those days. I find comfort knowing that I am allowing myself days to mourn. The disciples had 3 days of mourning. 3 days of unbearable sadness and pain for everything they had lost. 3 days of anxiety and fear over what would happen next. I take peace knowing I am not alone in my suffering, and that my suffering is not forever.

When we allow ourselves the space to acknowledge the grief we feel, we also allow ourselves the space to accept what is and begin to heal and move on. It’s not easy. In fact, it’s extremely difficult. It’s very hard to move past some of the things I’ve endured and there are a few things I’m still very much stuck in the middle of. I’ve been hurt. I’ve been left. But there is comfort in the pain. With the message of Easter, I hear that there is another chapter waiting for me. There is a new journey around the corner when I’m ready.

I will start a new chapter soon. I will heal and I will be strong. But for now, I’m taking this Easter season as a space for me to grieve. It seems strange that a season usually related to “new life” could be seen as a season of grieving, but I hope my words have made sense. If you can’t seem to find any hope in a story of new life, find hope in a story that allows you space to mourn what you have lost. Take the time you need, knowing there is a new chapter waiting for you whenever you are ready.