Empty

Sacred Heart Chapel decorated for a previous
Easter celebration, taken by Susan Sink

I usually wear seven rings. It’s not as flashy as it sounds. They aren’t full of jewels, and they all have a history. A couple of weeks ago I removed all my rings. I thought I would be able to do a better job of washing my hands in this period of vigilance during the COVID-19 pandemic.

I like my bare hands. When I see them empty, I feel as though I am living more simply, down to the basics. They look brave, ready for simple tasks and easy to fold in prayer.

I see emptiness all around me now. My calendar is empty. My cupboards and pantry have empty spaces as I’m taking time to use supplies I already had. When I see empty shelves in the grocery store, I remind myself that I have enough or I can do without.

It is Lent, and the church pews are empty. This is my greatest sorrow, that I cannot join others in singing and praying and hearing the Word. Beyond sorrow is not knowing when there will be wine in the chalice and bread on the plate again.

A few days ago, I asked myself how I could bear Easter, the first time in my long life that I would not be in church on that glorious Sunday. And then I heard a voice say to me, “You will rejoice, for you will find the tomb empty.”

Marge Lundeen, OblSB