Mass was heavy with Father Chris's excellent homily about traditions, the eucharist heavy with its significance and ever-present Lord and the night heavy with cold as we walk with Him, our heavy promises in our hearts to stay and keep watch with Him, sad at what we know He will suffer yet heavy with hope for the triumphant end.
And with this heavy heart, I drive home in the dark, my car gliding along the well-remembered road, but my soul so far from me. Everything was so different, so much holier. The world became a tomb ready to incase its Prince in a matter of hours. Our knowing, our waiting, like a dream in which will awaken in us this reality...
that Our Lord and Savior will die to rise.
And all He asks is that we stay here, with Him, and watch, pray, witness.
Amidst the weight in the air, I pray to be worthy of watching. I pray to have that peace I so heavily ask for to be present in me as I remember the sacrifice. I close my eyes to believe in what will occur, for what is to come. This time, this year, this cross has become different in my eyes, more meaningful, more secure, saving and loving.
No longer guilt-ridden.
This waiting, this watching, this witnessing, this cross, this love, this pain, sorrow, weeping, mourning, hoping is all for one thing.