Good Friday...in three parts...

Part 1

The doorbell rings early Friday morning. It's our regular babysitter whom we forgot to cancel since Hubby had the day off. But we quickly decided to have some kid free time and gleefully headed off to a coffeeshop. Then the skytrain. Then the mall. As we are wandering, we spotted the Good Feet store. If you are from our neck of the woods, you would know the commercials that run for the Good Feet store. The testimonials of how the orthopedics saved folks from immense/chronic foot and back pain. You would also know that all the folks are 65+. Hubby and I are not 65...we are holding on to our early thirties. However, we often feel 65+ due to foot and back pain. (A intimate encounter with a pickup truck for Hubby, another volleyball injury for me) So we made stupid jokes about going in, then actually went in. I just about kneeled over at the sheer ugliness of shoes and the vast amounts of money that they wanted for them. The woman, noticing the sheen of perspiration and frightened looks on our faces, quickly came over and started her pitch. A couple of tests later, a trial pair of ortho. insoles for Hubby and nearly $500, we walked out of the Good Feet store. Hubby is well on his way to walking without pain. As for me, I headed to the nearest grocery store for a $13 pair of Dr. Scholls.

Part 2

Friday is swim day for Hubby and the girls, and because I didn't have a formal youth event, I joined in. It was fun to see how much Pookie is loving the water and how much she is willing to do. Because during the 10 swim lessons she had, she cried enough to fill a pool! We headed for a nutritious meal at the Golden Arches where I tried a salad. Which, by the way, is ridiculous. If you are going to the arches, get the bad-for-you food.

Part 3

We got home in time for me to head to our Good Friday service. It is quite a beautiful candle lit service with readings, hymns and reflections from different writers. I was just getting into it when Luis and a friend walked in. This are guys from the neighbourhood who struggle with substance abuse. To say that these guys were hammered is being quite kind. Luis tends to get loud and flirty, but you can usually get him to quiet down. His friend was in no mood to do that. In fact, he was quite loud, swearing constantly and acting aggressive. Despite the efforts of some spanish speaking folks, we couldn't get him calm. Imagine a darkened sanctuary, a reflective atmosphere and a guy dropping F- bombs every time we prayed or were quiet. Needless to say, it was distracting and a bit scary when I thought I might get hit. Of course, as folks walked out of the service they made sure that I knew that they were displeased. (Whatever, I'm the youth pastor...I did the best I could. There were other leadership folks/pastors there too) As I was walking home and trying to process all that had happened, I was struck by a thought. (a disclaimer here: I tend to resist 'spiritualizing' everything, but this thought helped me put everything into perspective) I'm pretty sure that at the foot of the cross there were people cursing at Jesus. It was not a quiet reflective moment where everyone pondered the weighty significance of what was happening. It was loud and messy. Much like the church I pastored in, worship at and find my community. This is my church. And it is messy and loud. It welcomes and creates space for those who know and love God, for those trying to figure it out, and for those whose wounds are so deep that all they can do is curse God. This is my church. And that was my Good Friday.