Friday, March 30, 2018

Remembering Good Fridays

Until Resurrection Day

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When I was a young girl, back in the 50’s
my grandmother said
there should be no talking on Good Friday
between the hours of one and three

no running around, no radio and no TV
all out of respect for our Savior
Who suffered and died
upon the Cross at Calvary

so try though I did to be silent and still
I was as fidgety, squirmy and irksome
as any healthy active kid would be
who had not yet grasped
the profound depth of what happened
that terrible good day when Jesus died

and in the 70’s when my own children
were young and restless
I would bring them to church
during the very same hours Grandma decreed
to venerate the Holy Cross
We’d approach the altar
where the Crucifix was displayed
kneel down and kiss the nail pierced feet of Jesus
or solemnly watch a reenactment of the Passion
by the youth group

Now, so many years later
now that I am a grandmother myself
I sit without fidgeting and fumbling
willingly turn off the radio and the TV
and carve out meaningful time to meditate
upon all my precious Lord endured
to save me from my sins

Sometimes I sing
“Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?”
Sometimes I weep
and sometimes, like today, I write a poem

Always, Jesus’ great sacrifice breaks my heart
and always, looking ahead
to the astonishing empty tomb
I’m reminded of the Hallelujah Hope
I have in Him—which is eternal

Grandma would be so pleased

Maude Carolan Pych

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