It comes back, if only for a moment or for a day, at the most inopportune times. The busiest of weeks. Palm Sunday to Easter – Holy Week, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Egg Hunt Saturday. Sermons to write, meals to plan, family to feed.
Yet, the unwanted visitor drops by without warning. And stays long enough to scare me and my spouse. To cause arguments with no good reason and no good ending. To doubt myself (and all I have been doing the last two years) and cry and blame myself for marriage/ money troubles. To yell and honk my horn.
But this shadow, whom I should have expected, really, hasn’t stayed long enough for me to forget who it is, what it is, that seeps into my brain and mind and heart and soul and dims the lights. I recognize that in the last two weeks, I have eulogized my grandmother, received our tax bill, showed vulnerability during workshops, answered a tactless question at church, and continued to lead and preach and pray and write and mother. But I have not exercised or eaten well. Or picked up my refill. I have not loved myself as much as I should. This I know.
And knowing is a blessing. Because I have experienced the pain beyond knowing why, when logic has flown out the window. When I can no longer pull myself up and get out and walk and write and talk and take care of myself. But that’s not today. I can do all those things, and I will.
But I will also embrace the darkness of the day, because it is appropriate.
It was now about noon, and darkness covered the whole earth until about three o'clock, while the sun stopped shining. Then the curtain in the sanctuary tore down the middle. Crying out in a loud voice, Jesus said, "Father, into your hands I entrust my life." After he said this, he breathed for the last time.
Former international fashion model Rev. Sarah Renfro seeks to boost the body image of young women by educating them on the myths of media and focusing on divine within. She also preaches and teaches about marriage and divorce, motherhood, ministry, and mental illness.