The Stone That Moved

Emma woke before the sun. She lay in bed, eyes open in the dark, listening. Somewhere in the house, she heard footsteps — soft ones, like someone trying not to be heard. She got up and padded to the doorway. Her grandmother was in the hallway, putting on her coat. "Grandma?" Emma whispered. "Where are you going?" Her grandmother turned. She was already dressed, her gray hair combed, her face something Emma had never seen before — serious and excited at the same time. "I'm going to see Jesus," she said. "See him?" Emma asked. "But he's in the tomb." Her grandmother knelt down so her face was level with Emma's. "Come with me," she said. "I want you to see something." Emma took her grandmother's hand, and they walked out into the early morning. The sky was just starting to get light — not quite day, not quite night. The streets were quiet. No one else was awake. They walked through the garden. Emma knew this path — she had walked it on Friday with her mother, when everything was sad and people were crying. But this morning, the path felt different. The birds were singing. The air smelled like flowers. And then Emma saw it. The tomb — the one with the big stone — the stone was "open". The heavy stone that no one could move was pushed to the side, and the door was empty. "Grandma," Emma whispered. "The stone. Someone moved it." Her grandmother squeezed her hand. "Someone did," she said. "But not a person." They walked closer. Inside the tomb, there were two men sitting there, dressed in clothes that shone like the sun. Emma had never seen anything like it. She wanted to run away and stay at the same time. The men looked at her gently. "Why are you looking for the living among the dead?" one of them asked. "He is not here. He has risen." Emma didn't understand. She turned to her grandmother, and she saw tears on her grandmother's face — but her grandmother was smiling. "He said he would," her grandmother whispered. "He said on the third day. He said." Emma thought about the stone. She thought about how heavy it was. She thought about how nobody could move it — not the strongest man in the whole city. But the stone had moved. And Jesus was alive. And everything — everything — was different now. Her grandmother picked her up and held her tight. Around them, the sun was coming up, painting the sky in gold and pink and every color of joy Emma had ever seen. "He is alive," her grandmother said into her hair. "He is alive, sweetheart. And because He is alive, we will live too." Emma didn't fully understand. But she understood enough to know that this was the best morning of her whole life. The stone had moved. The tomb was empty. And the man who loved children had beaten death forever. Outside the garden, more people were coming — running, walking fast, going toward the tomb. They had heard the news. They were coming to see. And Emma, carried in her grandmother's arms, went with them — into a world that had just changed forever.