Everyone in my small faith circle seems to be focused on Holy Week.
To be expected I suppose. If you are Christian then, as St Paul puts it, our faith is a folly without the Resurrection and we are to be pitied.
But to get to the Resurrection one has to get through Good Friday. The death. Unimaginable cruelty. Abandonment. The Chosen One dying just like a common criminal. Like no one special. It doesn't help that I recognise my own behaviour in that of the disciples. I don't even have the lofty moral high ground to distance me from the gasping pain of it all.
I can't hide as I am reading the narrators part for Good Friday's Gospel. I will be in the midst of it. A front row seat to the most gruesome and tragic show on earth.
Today though I have been finding small pleasures where I can. Breathing in the fragrance of magnolia, the taste of cheesecake and the hug of a son and the gentle love of my husband. Building up courage and strength for the horror to come.
I didn't realize that you had magnolias where you are. I will be folding you into my prayers tonight for strength and peace.
ReplyDeleteLike cherry trees we do have magnolias here - though of course they aren't indigenous and both flower in our equivalent of autumn rather than spring. And I am honoured to be folded into your prayers this day.
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