To Catholics, celebrating the Easter Triduum is probably the most important part of the liturgical calendar. Once upon a time it was part of Lent, but ever since 1956 the Triduum has been regarded as its own liturgical season. Formed from the Latin prefix tri – (meaning “three”) and the Latin word dies – (“day”), a triduum was originally any prayer recited over the course of three days. It begins with the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on the evening of Holy Thursday and continues until the evening prayer on Easter Sunday.

I listened to an extraordinary sermon recently about those three days of Jesus’ life and how we experience them in our own lives over and over again. Sometimes those three days will be more excruciating than others, as in our case. Burying a child most likely tops all lists of “hard days.” The point, this pastor was stressing, was that often we can’t do anything to stop the days from coming. If you haven’t experienced the Friday’s, Saturday’s, and Sunday’s of real life, don’t get too comfortable. Because they are coming. The key is following the model of Jesus Christ when they hit. I did not expect mine when it happened in November of 2014. Without any special training in this model, I had to figure out my own answers to the following questions: “What do I do in my days of pain?” “How do I get through my days of doubt and confusion?” “How do I get to my days of victory?”

Good Friday is a day where we recall the crucifixion of Jesus. It was a day of pain, suffering, and agony. Jesus endured extreme physical and emotional pain. My own Good Friday was the day my son died in an ATV accident. While I did not suffer any injuries of my own, the emotional pain made it very physical. If only the shock of the news could have lasted longer. If only it could have kept me feeling numb. It didn’t and the feelings of brokenness and heartbreak felt like I was suffering my own death. I can imagine how Mary and the disciples felt at the foot of that Roman cross, unable to change what was inevitable. Their son and friend was gone.

Holy Saturday is the day we reflect on the burial of Christ. It was a time of loss, grief, confusion, and misery. For me, Saturday lasted the longest. Maybe I’m still partially in Saturday. Often I seem to tiptoe between Saturday and Sunday, unsure of how exactly I feel. When you don’t know what to do and you don’t know where to turn, you are in the Saturdays of life. During my 16 month Saturday, I wondered a litany of things. Why did it happen? What if I could have prevented it? My life was perfect… what do I do now? My guess is the disciples had to have pondered similar thoughts. Their messiah was gone. He had said he would return, but what did that mean really? Was he who he said he was? Had they been duped? I hated that I doubted that Dalton was in heaven at first. I was so disillusioned with grief, I couldn’t help wondering. I craved the reassurance that he was. Very slowly, the affirmation would come. While on my knees weeping at the accident site many months into my Saturday, I offered my trust to God, telling Him that I wanted His will to be done, not mine.

I am on the verge of my own Easter Sunday (figuratively as well as literally). During the time of Jesus Christ, Easter Sunday was the day Jesus kept a very important promise. He resurrected himself from the dead. It was a time of joy, celebration, victory, and hope. Death was not the end of his story. Much more was to come. Can you fathom the faces of the people who saw the Risen Jesus after watching him be crucified with their very own eyes? Though I have not touched Dalton’s face with my own fingers since he has left us, I trust that I will. I have no reason to think I won’t. Jesus made 7000+ promises in his life. Is he not capable of keeping them? Can you trust a man who foreshadows his own death, assures his followers that he will see them again, and then does exactly that? I believe you can.

Inevitably, you will one day experience your own Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. You may even get several. Nobody gets through life without any hardships, disappointments, and suffering. The Good News is God specializes in turning hurt into joy. He gave us His own son as a model for it.

“I am the resurrection and the life; he who believed in Me will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?” (John 11:25-26)

Happy Easter, DD. We wish you were here to watch you do your cut-throat Easter egg hunting. It’s just not the same without seeing you push aside your four year old cousin, Brooke, to take the Easter egg her heart was set on.