What Easter Means to Me
I am trapped.
The boulder is heading straight for me and I know I can’t escape. What good would it do anyway?
I’ve ended up in this exact situation before, too many times before, so why try to get away?
It’s my own stupid fault. I finally get that.
There’s nothing I can do.
I huddle down against the impact, wondering how much this will hurt, wishing being truly sorry mattered.
I’m knocked to the ground. But not by the boulder.
A man, a stranger, shoves me out of the way, and I just have time to look up and watch the boulder smash into him, shatter into a pile of rubble, and bury him.
I am too stunned to do anything but gape. When I finally recover enough to move, the pile moves, too. I stop, my eyes glued on the pile.
Flinging off the rocks, the man stands up.
I splutter, “B-b-but how? But who? But why?”
Brushing off the dust and dirt, the man gives me a huge grin and answers all my questions with one sentence.
“Dad sent me.”
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