For at least the last 15 years Good Friday has been a very hard day for me. Just thinking about Christ's tremendous sacrifice is overwhelming. I know that Sunday is coming. I know that he arose. If I did not know the end of the story I do not know that I good cope. I can only begin to imagine the depths of despair the Mary's must have felt. And of course, they could not truly understand the significance of the sacrifice.
This year the weight has already hit. I have been explaining Maundy Thursday and the last supper to the children. And I think about the tears that Jesus shed in the garden. And I think about the humility he expressed in washing the disciples feet.
I am humbled. I am ashamed. I see myself with dirty feet. And I think of how I fail to keep the vigil and pray. And I think of all the ways that I betray Christ by my offenses.
And I feel so black and dark inside.
But I know that Sunday is coming.
God is good!
All the time!
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A place to rant and rave about the joys and challenges of parenthood and life in general. And hopefully a place to find more intellectual stimulation than I generally get from my children.
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