“Each of us will have our own Fridays—those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces. We all will experience those broken times when it seems we can never be put together again. We will all have our Fridays. But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death—Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrow, Sunday will come. No matter our desperation, no matter our grief, Sunday will come. In this life or the next, Sunday will come.”
― Joseph B. Wirthlin
This has been a year of Fridays. They can be so overwhelming, maybe even more so because I don't feel comfortable talking about it. I am learning to endure Fridays. For most people, Friday can symbolize the end of the week. A time to prepare for fun and rest. A time of relief. We call those days "Friday Light" around here.
For me, Fridays have become more difficult. There is nothing light about them. They are days of stress and anxiety. They are days of not knowing how anything is going to turn out. They are days when I am so totally not in control. Fridays are like my first crochet project. None of the stitches turned out right. The blanket was crooked and did not look good. I had to take out all the stitches, days and days of work and struggle, and start all over again.
Perhaps, that is why I need these Fridays. These days of trial. These days of pieces and unraveling, like yarn from my project. These are the days of preparation for new beginnings. The Savior gave up His life on a Friday. He knew that Sunday would come. He knew that in the darkness of death, was a new beginning, a new Resurrection. He knew that He would yet live.
So, during these Fridays in my own life, I think of Him. I think of His love and His promises. And I know that Sunday really will come. I may not be in control, but He is. I may be weak, but He is my strength. I may lack trust, but He knows me and teaches me and directs my path.
In my very broken-ness, I know that Sunday will come.