Easter Melancholy

I confess to feeling disappointment, despite the joy of the day. Foolish, I know. As foolish as the hope which preceded it. I had this irrational hope that today would be the day that you would speak to me. 

I know that I have no right or reason to hope. Yet hope I do. Still.

Every Easter is hard for me. Easter is special for us. Do you remember, the first Easter we knew each other, when you spontaneously invited me to your house for Easter dinner? That was so very kind of you. Then there was that other one, that I already mentioned the other day. But this Easter is worse, because of seeing you recently, and the possibility of seeing you again. Again, I know you don't owe me anything. But the fact that the possibility exists...it's just hard. This is one of the primary reasons that I left our old church; I couldn't take the constant raising and dashing of my hopes every week.

I try not to hope. Then, when that doesn't work, I try to pretend to myself that I'm not. Then when that doesn't work, I give it up to God, and that does help; it takes away most of the sting of the disappointment, and the despair that would follow from it. But not 100 percent--there's still some lingering sadness. Probably because I'm not surrendering it 100 percent. But I do the best that I am able.

I'm trying not to let this mean that I'm not going to be able to stay at this church for long, either. Sometimes I feel like it's working, and it's going to be fine, as long as I trust in God. But sometimes I feel like I'm not going to be able to do it.