Naomi and her mother walked home from the city on a Friday afternoon. Something had happened. Something terrible. And Naomi didn't understand why her mother was crying.
"Mama, why is everyone so sad?"
Her mother squeezed her hand. "They put a good man in the ground today."
"Did he do something bad?"
"No, baby. He didn't do anything wrong. He was the only one who never did anything wrong. And they didn't like that, so they..." Her voice faded into silence.
Naomi didn't understand. She had seen the man once — riding on a donkey, with people waving branches and singing. He had looked like a king. Not the kind of king with a sword and armor, but the kind with kind eyes and a soft voice. He had looked at people like they mattered.
Now he was gone.
That night, Naomi couldn't sleep. She crept out of bed and found her mother sitting by the window, staring at nothing.
"Mama? Are you thinking about him?"
Her mother nodded. "I'm thinking about what he said."
"What did he say?"
"He said he would come back. He said not to be sad. He said..." She paused. "He said the third day everything would make sense."
"When is the third day, Mama?"
Her mother looked down at Naomi with wet eyes. "Tomorrow is one day. And then Saturday is two. And Sunday..." She pulled Naomi close. "Sunday is three."
"So on Sunday, everything will be okay?"
Her mother didn't answer right away. Then she said, "I don't know if I believe it, Naomi. My heart is too heavy."
Naomi leaned her head against her mother's shoulder. "I believe you should believe," she whispered. "You always tell me — when you don't understand something, trust the One who does."
Her mother laughed a little. It wasn't a happy laugh, but it was something. "When did you get so wise?"
"From you, Mama."
They sat together by the window a long time. Outside, the moon was bright and the world was quiet. Somewhere, a stone was in front of a tomb. And somewhere, in the heart of a tired mother, a small ember of hope would not go out.
Not yet.
It was only Friday. But Sunday was coming.