I've been a Christian all my life (apart from that teenage blip) and never before have I thought of the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday as anything other than a day in between.
This year is very different.
This year I am experiencing a quiet reflective grief, mostly as a mother.
This year I am very much sitting with Mary as she grieves the death of her son. I can not even start to imagine the heartbreak, the horror, the desperation she must have felt. And yet I can empathise, I can understand many aspects of her grief through that I have lived through myself.
This year, for the first time I am not jumping ahead to the joy of Easter sunday's resurrection. Instead I am sitting with this grief.