We wake this morning, often unsurprised

The scandal of conquered death

Now replaced with familiar expectation

He is risen indeed

words more worn than new,

like crumbles of day old bread.

Gift us humility to be surprised

That the story we know is still being written

Our waiting has been fickle

We’ve lingered at certain tombs, like the women,

Visiting them while dark,

Beckoning your presence,

Longing for the stone to be rolled away

And we’ve left others, like the disciples

some too small or too large,

too long ago or too recent

To risk disappointment and hope.

On this day of resurrection,

Renew us with young hope

That we might look for you, again,

Waiting as a gardener

At tombs we pace each day

And those we’ve left for years.

Gift us humility to be surprised

that we might we might hear you call our name

that we might see you risen, again.

Jesse French

Restoration Project Executive Director