Friday, April 6, 2012

Good Friday

In my hometown, on Good Friday, churches are open noon to three, and people go to pass the hours when nothing can be done but to pray and mourn. I remember going one year, when the rest of the family was in Ireland, with a couple a barely knew, to St. Stanislaw, to the Polish hours. I wore black, with dark eyes and new black boots and spent more time reflecting on my mournful style than the sacrifice of Christ, but I meant well. I was eighteen. I am only a little better today.

Here, the three hours are spent at home, and on bright days it’s hard to remember that today is a sorrowful day, a day to keep watch beneath the cross.

I am drinking coffee this morning and eating my oatmeal without honey, the sky is beautiful. The Icon Christ looks down on me with sad eyes and out in the woods, a bird cries.


  1. I wore all black last night except for a white cross and earrings, with dark eye shadow. Dressing up to match the liturgy is too thrilling to not do, but I get distracted by it, too. :) Ah, well. It's part of getting into the spirit of the thing, so I only feel a little guilty.

    Happy Easter!

  2. Awesome! It's so distracting sometimes, but so worth it!