I receive the text on my way home from church Wednesday night.
Are you alright?
I text back yes and share that this week does this to me every year. This holy of weeks that shames me into admittance that so few of my days in a year are spent hurting over the pain my Savior endured. And is there a word deeper than pain?
Admittance that my lack of faithfulness brought Him to a cross and even still that cross I so often forget and what love could be stronger to bear that cross knowing I would still lack faithfulness to even remember?
I attend service of darkness and sing and pray and watch the blowing out of candles and feel tears slide. I wipe my face and for a moment wonder if I can stifle sobs I feel coming. And the pain from earlier in my day mixes with grief and reminder of grace and I feel threatened to lose control. Then with the final Amen I exit quickly and quietly and prayer is answered when I make it to my car before the crushing weight of all this wins and I break.
I listen to the story of K. and there is a clock inside spinning backwards remembering and I know only by grace. And I wonder - where is K's grace?
Some small sound wakes me to a morning still dark. I avoid the clock and pull covers up over my head. But there is no rescue of sleep because here it is - the day that represents the day.
Good Friday. Pious. Holy.
If I had been there would I have seen my name written in the stripes on his back? RIE carved in letters so deep that only God's love can erase. Not time or shame or sorry but only love.
Would I have seen my face in the angry sneering crowd? My mouth turning Hosana to crucify?
And my answer screams yes and I push myself deeper under the covers. I remember last night I closed my eyes to the day that He prayed for another way and accepted the way of the cross. How could I have rested when He prayed drops of blood?
Then he returned to the disciples and found them asleep. He said to Peter, "Couldn't you watch with me even one hour?"
I rested in sleep because of the crack of whip moving faster than the speed of sound and nails pounding crushing small bones and heart breaking looking through space and time - my face. RIE.
Just make it through today, just make it through today I repeat over and over. And then morning will break again just get through today, I pray. And what will I do from noon until three? I will wash dishes and clean house and shop for a birthday gift and remember to remember.
Only by grace did I realize early enough in my life, before it was maybe too late? Never for love, but maybe for redemption? And on this holy day I wonder again Where is K's grace? Help her, Lord, to find her gift of grace.
And I long to go home and look into His face. I want to touch the scars and fall at His feet and sob unstifled I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry.
I must await my heavenly home but not my seeing His face because He wakes with me and rises with me and rests with me and loves me a cross much. Today the day that represents the day I will remember agony and thank often and wait for new morning to break.