My mother endured three days of labor before my birth,
Imagining her ordeal, I reflect on each day’s worth.
Day one, fear gripped her, a daunting start,
Pushing through grief with a sickening heart.

The second day, confusion reigned supreme,
Questions and doubts, a relentless stream.
Wishing for a different outcome, a change in fate,
Yearning for relief from the prolonged wait.

Day three, exhaustion prevailed, hope nearly lost,
Seeking an end to the misery, at any cost.
Then, unexpectedly, a beam of light,
And I entered the world, ending the plight.

Reflecting on my birth and the resurrection day,
A pattern emerges, showing the way.
Resurrection brings hope, even in the darkest hour,
A reminder of God’s power, His restoring power.

For many, the third day may linger, a year or more,
Yet hope in Jesus remains a steadfast core.
In unlikely hours, His power is near,
Reviving dreams, dispelling fear.

The first day teaches us to persevere,
To rise with strength, to overcome fear.
Like Joseph of Arimathea, salvage the situation, piece by piece,
This will be the blueprint for the fulfillment of the third day which brings peace.

On the second day, resist the pull of guilt and self-pity,
Rise and delve into the scriptures, as the disciples did with humility.
Seek illumination amidst the darkness that surrounds,
Let the power of the word enlighten for this is where hope abounds.

On the third day, when hope seems out of sight,
Offer spices of praise and thanksgiving like Mary Magdalene, let your spirit take flight.
In worship and gratitude, faith is revived,
And in that moment, the dead is brought to life.

As we celebrate Easter,
Let us fix our gaze on the potential for our own resurrection.
For the same spirit that breathed life into Christ dwells within us,
Ushering in the promise of our own “third day” approaching.

#GoodFridayGrace