Waiting for the promise

After the initial shock and stinging sadness, what did they do?  Did the disciples find cover in the outer skirts of Jerusalem or have friends in town they could trust?  They had left everything to follow Him.  Given up everything these now fishers of men.  And now this.
Did they mull over all that He said.  Did they even remember Lazarus?  What they had witnessed?
How do you survive the in-between time?  When all seems lost?  When every ounce of your being wants to cling to hope.
Just maybe.
But doubt crowds in on hope.  Even before hope has a chance.

Mocking us
Laughing at us

The disciples must have eventually found each other as a group of them were together when Jesus appeared.  Finding safety in numbers.
Recounting the days
All they had experienced together.
This just couldn't be the end.

Moving forward when all you thought you understood to be true is ripped away, violently
without warning
or time to prepare
is like the wind being knocked out of you.

But there was preparation.
They had yet to see it.
Vision was stunted.
The grief masked the promise He had made.

They had been with him, for 3 years.
Shared life.
And no matter what was to come now,
They would never be the same.

And so we find ourselves
in those moments
wondering
waiting
for the promise.

For I am with you always, He said.
Never the same, renewing  us everyday.