He is risen...

"Christ is risen! Alleluia."
"He is not."
"Yes, He is. Come and see!"
"Okay, I'm coming."
"Comb your hair first."

At 4:15 the vigilant stands outside the door. She knocks, opens the door and the salutation is: Christ is risen! Alleluia. The response is supposed to be: Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia.

I had hit the snooze alarm twice already, then turned off the alarm. Then turned on my light. Then dozed off again. The statement startled me awake. I knew I was supposed to say something... but I couldn't wrap my brain around the concept. All that came was: He is not. At that point sister improvised. She realized I was not even awake, and departed from the script.

For sleep I sometimes wear my hair in two pig tails, like a child's, and they manage to rearrange themselves in the night. One will be up high, the other pulled down... both are crooked when I look in the mirror. I must have been a sight. The disciples must have been a sight that first Easter morning. Mary Magdalene rushing in breathlessly, babbling like an idiot. The Lord is risen! and the inevitable response... He is not.

It takes time to comprehend the inconceivable, even when you've been forewarned... prompted ahead of time that this would be the reality. Jesus had warned his disciples that he would die. They couldn't wrap their minds around that. He had said he would rise again on the third day. That one escaped them too.

Peter and John may have said "Okay, we're coming." and off they ran, each trying to outdistance the other, to be first to see what Mary was babbling about. She probably didn't bother to tell them to comb their hair.