He is Risen, Indeed!

The first thing Mildred said upon waking Sunday morning was, "C'mon! It's the happiest day of the year!"

The darkness and bleak mourning of Good Friday become something truly Good only with the risen Christ. Death fell, defeated; past, present, and future are firmly sealed; and Easter Sunday is the happiest day of the year.

From Madeleine L'Engle's poem Three Days, in which Mary speaks:

Sunday

Dear God, He has come, the Word has come again.
There is no terror left in silence, in clouds, in gloom.
He has conquered the hate; he has overcome the pain.
Where, days ago, was death lies only an empty tomb.

The secret should have come to me with his birth,
when glory shone through darkness, peace through strife.
For every birth follows a kind of death,
and only after pain comes life.