We weep for what we have lost,
You sing over us what you give as gain
At the infants’ first cry,
You remind us of your promise
All things will be made new,
We will yield fruit in our right season.
Leaves wither, and strong winds pull them away,
But in due time, buds will re-emerge,
Blossoms will burst forth,
And life will be beautiful again.
We cry out to you with mixed feelings
Desperately seeking your will
Unsure what to say, not exactly knowing how to pray,
We approach you,
With both gladness and grief
We adorn ourselves with your word,
We speak your truth
We walk in the light of your faithfulness
Yet, we anticipate you
We anticipate your coming
We anticipate the day that death will not sting
We wait for your powerful entrance into this broken world
Then, we get up.
We paint our faces,
curl our hair
and face the day.