On Good Friday, my 16-year-old son decided he had had enough of us and he was moving out with his girlfriend.

We knew it was coming. He had been begging for at least two years that we would let him move out. It wasn’t even an option for most of that time. I mean, he was a kid! He had no way to support himself. He would ask if he could live with a friend. Well, no. He belongs with his family. And there’s no way on this green earth I’m going to ask another family to take on the responsibility of all that comes with this child.

But he was so determined to be on his own that, in January of this same year, he had taken off and was missing for eight days. It was quite possibly the hardest and most painful challenge I’ve ever been through, having a missing child. I will write that experience another day. He came home and made promises about working on our relationship and following our rules and dealing with everything until he turned 18. I warned him it would probably not be that way, that he had made promises in the past but always ended up throwing the rules out the window. He assured me this time was different.

It wasn’t. Within two months of being back, he was pushing the boundaries. Each day, each week, was a little more painful to live with him. So very prayerfully and thoughtfully, and with the help of his therapist, we created a detailed plan for him to be able to move out on his own. We asked him to do some very specific things to show that he was ready to be an adult. He agreed to it.

But on Good Friday, he blew it all off, said enough is enough, and left. Abruptly. I was heartbroken.

The next day, we took a short journey an hour north to drop off some Easter goodies to some of our grandchildren. On the drive home, I was mesmerized by a beautiful sunset out one window and a vibrant double rainbow out the other. It’s a good thing Kent was driving, because I couldn’t take my eyes off the ever-changing beauty! I was deep in thought as I watched the clouds and the clearing rain and the colors.

I remembered the covenant God made with Noah after the flood, for which the rainbow is a symbol. I remembered the covenants God has made with me and with my family. I remembered that those covenants extend far beyond this mortal existence and that they will be honored.

I thought about Easter coming the next morning. I thought about Jesus Christ, whom I love with all my heart, rising from the tomb on Easter morn. I thought about the promise we have had, all the inhabitants of the earth from the beginning of time, that He would rise. And I thought about all the promises that come from His atonement and resurrection.

Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin’s words came to my mind: No matter how dark our Friday, Sunday will come. My Friday had been dark. Not only the day immediately preceding this rainbow- and sunset-filled drive, but my figurative Friday spanning the past several years. Christ’s followers had been taught that He would rise, but they didn’t fully understand. Do I? Do I fully understand the promises coming to me on my Sunday? Somehow, I think I don’t. Somehow, I believe that when my Sunday comes, it will be so glorious and magnificent that I won’t even be able to comprehend how it’s possible.

Christ’s followers had a very dark Friday. What was their Saturday like? That in-between time, when the immediate crisis was over, but there had been no resolution? When they were sitting in their grief, not knowing what would come next? This is my Saturday.

I have little Sundays here and there. I have beautiful, incredible blessings that come to me, sometimes daily. And they sustain me, as does my hope in my covenants and in the blessings that will come.

Because my Sunday will come. And so will yours.