It's a Sunday, the day I get up in front of a whole group of alternately joyful and brokenhearted people, and tell them week after week - in the face of plenty of evidence otherwise - that God's steadfast love surrounds them.
It's the last Sunday in Lent, the most somber season of the church year; it's the Sunday when we draw to a close this time of reflection, of sacrifice, of considering our mortality and the fragile nature of life. Starting next Sunday, we enter the holiest week of the year.
Right in the middle of that week, I'll have a pregnancy test.
A day of steadfast love; a day of beginning to end a sad and serious season; a day which leads into the most monumental week of all.
Yep. Seems about right.