Reflections on Good Friday

Lewis Thompson.
I wish I could exchange words with you.
Even as a young girl, every time I stole m&m's from your office
And shared the words that weighed in my heart
You listened with patience and understanding.
And you offered me words that in the moment I never could quite discern.
It was only after I walked away that they would resolve squall in my heart.

I wasn't expecting to feel this way.
But when I saw the Holy Week Schedule
Tear's flooded my eyes
And my heart felt heavy.

These are the words of my heart.

In my faith journey I've been in on a personal quest.
I didn't want to grow up in a green home
Eating green food prepared by ladies in green aprons
Painting rolling green hills
Singing green songs
And forever think that green was the best color
Without having swam in waves of the vast blue ocean
Without feeling golden rays of the sun kiss my skin
Without standing witness to the white brilliance that capps the tallest mountains.

And so I've been living in a land of golden rays.
Where the sun is hot but hearts are cool.
Where prayer is three wands of incense,
A bouquet of flowers,
Three bows,
And words exchanged with the golden one who towers.
Where a sounding gong, bad luck scares
And one who devotes life to study is present at all public affairs.

I feel blessed to be welcomed here. Invited to participate in rituals. Told the stories of each place.

But this week
In the land of golden waves
I find myself missing
Green.
Its familiarity.
Its rituals.
Its story.

Until now I had never understood the intense loyalty some feel to particular institutions.
Now my heart is yearning for the somber grey hymns of Good Friday
Now that for the first time in a long time I open my dusty text just to hear the good Word aloud
Now I miss intensely the green rituals I've practiced since birth.

What is the significance?

Is green my favorite color?
Am I just homesick?

I am still unsure. I am still on my quest.

Either way, I quell my heart by listening to O Sacred Head, Now Wounded on repeat with Good Friday homilies interspersed. And in three days at sunrise, I will commune with God, Lewis, and the rest of God's people at buena vista to exclaim "He Is Risen! He Is Risen Indeed!"

For I have read the scripture. I know the doctrine. This Good Friday I reflect on the suffering Jesus endured. His sacrifice. His intimate act of grace. An act whose grace is wide enough to cover me.

No matter where I am.

No matter where my heart is.