There’s something about the days before Easter that feels quieter, almost suspended.
The story hasn’t reached the resurrection yet, but everything that leads to it is already in motion. It makes me think about how much of faith is lived in that kind of space; not at the beginning, not at the resolution, but somewhere in between.
I wonder if these days invite us to sit with tension a little longer instead of rushing to the outcome. Trusting not just the ending, but the process we don’t fully understand yet.