Friday

I arrive at another Friday with my prayer, bringing my heart's longing. The week with all its temptation, sin in varying degrees and miniscule trials has once again brought me here. Yet I arrive with a sense of joy. I arrive at a day to remember.

It is a day that I call favored among days; a day preordained to give us a moment to call good among the passing of moments. Perhaps it's more the end of a long week that some may celebrate, but I, like you, know of another significance infused in this good day.

I was born on a Friday afternoon in a desolate and arid wilderness. Perhaps it was this event that triggered my insatiable thirst for something that quenches eternally. I always come back to Friday, remembering Fridays that should have long been released from imprisonment in my memory.

It was on a Friday that mother drove past the church that had a statue of Mary and that bore her name as well. I know it was Friday because such things remain in the minds of schoolchildren for all of their days. There was fish on the school menu that day. I sensed a holy connection to St. Mary never to be dismissed. Mother said they prayed to him through her.

Friday brings me to the foot of the Cross where sorrow was seen and salvation was won once and for all—for me and for anyone else who might approach with longing, faith, and a heart of love. I stand here; rather kneel, on this day. It is I, he says, who give to you this Friday. It is a day, I say, for the one I love, at whose Cross I remain—faithfully waiting.

Comments

[Gabrielle]

"Mother said they prayed to him through her." This was quite a simple yet profound statement considering your Mom was not Catholic, wasn't it, deacon dan?

[Deacon DW]

Well, Gabrielle, I've never forgotten it.

[Carol]

"I was born on a Friday afternoon in a desolate and arid wilderness."

Utterly profound, DDW. (I'd like those words on my headstone one day.) Indeed, we were born on a Friday afternoon at 3 o'clock in a desolate and arid wilderness, and were not left orphans at all.