We Are the Easter People

Death certificates, divorce decrees,

a message from a perplexed m.d.

I’ve been the soldier crouched in the night.

It’s zero-dark-thirty, and my enemy lurks out of sight

Should be scared to death, right?

But

Like a powerlifter carrying a feather,

Like Durant slamming a dunk,

Like a mom cooking dinner, helping homework, talking on the phone,

It’s no big thing

I am an Easter Person

I know dead bodies raise,

His broken body heals,

And His blood saves.

It’s not just liturgy, to me.

The doctors told me no way.

My little baby was dead, and now he’s a Jesus-loving fifth grader who fills my days with laughter and noise and no small amount of dirt.

I was a confused mess of a girl, and now I’m totally free.

Confidence like a Child of a King,

no weapon formed do we fear,

Though our enemy seems to be near,

We Let freedom ring for all who travail,

In the end we know we prevail!

Because We are the Easter People –

And we know what this Sunday morning means!

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