It’s Good Friday. Today is the day that Christians traditionally believe our Savior was tortured, teased, jeered, taunted, stripped, whipped, and nailed to a cross to die. While it is typically a somber day, it is not a traditionally sad day because traditional Christians believe Jesus miraculously rose from the dead 3 days later, which is why we celebrate Easter.
As I’ve been reflecting on Easter and the new life Christ affords us through His death and resurrection, I can’t help but think about the tomb where Jesus was laid after his death. I bet that cave was cold, dark, and empty. I know it might be a stretch to say this, but that tomb/cave reminds me of my womb. To me, my womb feels cave or grave like. It is empty. I am sure it is dark (Never having seen it myself, I can only assume). It’s not cold, but it is probably somewhat damp. Still, it is empty. It has never known an inhabitant. I have often felt as though a stone were rolled in front of my little womb, preventing inhabitation. And while I know the grave is associated with death, in Jesus’ case the cave is ultimately associated with life because he didn’t stay dead, he arose and left it.
So, this Easter weekend, I am going to pray for my womb stone to be rolled away. I know that there is power in prayer and in the faith behind prayer. I am going to pray for life and for a resurrection of life inside my womb. I am going to pray that the stone I feel is blocking my womb (figuratively speaking) will be rolled away. I am going to reflect on all things new and alive. I am going to seek the face of Him who gives us eternal life and pray for him to fill my womb with its own little life.
Even though it is currently 18 degrees here today and more reminiscent of December than spring, Easter and April bring more thoughts of spring than of winter. We begin to look forward to new buds on trees and flowers growing. It’s a time for baby animals to be born and all of the land begins to show signs of fertility. I am going to pray for my and Bob’s fertility and begin to let hope bloom anew. Something tells me that the God of the miraculous is not done making miracles yet. This time, I pray he sends one our way.