Impressions from Holy Friday

Sundown to choir music, and a pitch black nave at the end.
Vigilants holding candles-antiphonal choir singing-aching feet.
A corpus icon on the cross-a body on a bier awaiting burial
Arabic lamenting-Greek, English lamenting
procession
ducking low to walk under the icon of Christ's enshrouded body
thinking of Mary and her grief at seeing her Son and her God dead upon the tree
hugs from children
fumbling pages of choir music
holding a candle so the person next to me could see
paying attention to the choir director
feeling tired: all except my voice
taking my shoes off and feeling the cold tile against my bare feet; soothing
the sun shining the the stained glass in the evening, making what looked like a rose pattern on the tile floor
rose petals around the tomb
a smoke filled narthex so thick it would make one cough
Church bells
Vigil
Psalms being canted
lamentations sung
Ancient hymns
tears on faces
tired bodies
lentil soup and homemade bread
kids running in the fellowship hall
conversation
comraderie
introductions
Altoids in the choir loft
six hours of Church and yes we survived
worship as it ought to be and wishing my flesh and my bones did not protest with aches and fatigue and a wandering mind
crying tired children
wailing babies and I'm glad they arent' mine
noticing a well worn prayer rope on someone's arm
Jesus Christ died for my sins, and the sins of all mankind
thinking with sorrow of His suffering and passion
Glory to Thy Passion, O Lord.