My son burst into tears last night over his blanket.
Ever since he was a baby, he has carried that blanket everywhere. We can’t even start e-learning until he gets it from his room and covers himself in it. About a year ago, the blanket was starting to fray, so my husband took out the sewing machine and repaired a big swath of it. But now the edges are fraying too and it looks like it’ll be harder to repair it this time.
Faced with the realization that something he loved and cherished might not, in fact, last forever… he cried.
He lamented for his best friend.
And instead of just sitting with him in his sadness, I tried to take his grief away.
But he just needed to sit and cry and hug his blanket tight while it was still there to hold.
Today is Holy Thursday, the day we celebrate Jesus’s last supper with his friends. I imagine that Jesus’ friends, despite the fear and uncertainty, also we’re experiencing a grief like they had never known. At this moment, they could reach out and touch His hand, even hug Him tight… and the next day, they would watch Him be led off to die.
Like the apostles and my son with his blanket, we are all grieving the loss of something right now – normalcy, freedoms, special events, jobs, security. In this way, we are closer to the apostles than ever before. We have the unique opportunity today to stay with them in their hour of sadness and grieve with them.
We can be their friend today.
Henri Nouwen once wrote: “The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”
So let us stop for a minute today and put aside our desire to fix anything… and instead be with the apostles and a little boy and his blanket and grieve.
How much better will the joy of Easter be then?
