I think my spirituality has suffered over the years. Here it is, the second holiest day of the Christian year, and all I can think about is what has to be done in the next day or two.
The history of my faith has been aloneness. Always and ever, I attended church on my own, from junior high on up. I could never get my loved ones to share the Community of the Faithful with me. One really poignant moment was the night that I sang a solo in an Easter cantata...Mary's Song...at the foot of the cross. There wasn't a dry eye in the house, including mine. My then-spouse wasn't there. He was making a statement, in the midst of his affair with his then-secretary. It hurt me deeply.
The next year, I had yet another solo, but I was driving quite a distance, post-divorce, just to attend rehearsals, etc. The night after the first performance, I got a call from my sister that my father had died. (Long story.) I had to decide if I was going to perform the next night or not...but since there was really nothing for me to do in Illinois yet, I decided to sing. As we were putting on our costumes for the cantata, I announced to the others that my father had died the night before.
One woman said, "How very nice!"
Huh?
"Last night, your father couldn't hear you sing. Tonight, he can!"
It made all the difference to me! God bless the woman, whoever she is!
"Good" Friday is misnamed. Still, Christ died this day for the sins of the world. I need to remember.
God bless my readers!
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