Good, Good Friday

Above Earth Day and above National Jelly Bean Day, this is Good Friday. Before you begin to hail me as a good Christian blogger, I must say that I gave into my vices and took the time to grab my free cup of joe from Starbucks this morning on my way to work. But as this is a day of remembering, I will be taking time to reflect on what it means for me to be a Christian and an Episcopalian.

Last night, someone asked me if I had any big plans for this weekend? As I was with my witty pseudo sister, my response was of course tongue in cheek, “That Jesus Christ died for my sins and is going to rise again—N.B.D.” But of course, that is true—and that is what I will be focusing on today while I sit at my desk. On Good Friday.

I believe in signs. I’m not talking about the signs that Charlotte spins in her web; though if I had a barn spider writing me praise, this blog might have taken a different path! I’m talking about those little things that bubble up when least expected: colors, smells, dreams, billboards, sidewalk encounters, weather patterns; things of which you don’t pay much attention.

I woke up late this morning. I assume because it was raining, and could there be a more peaceful sound? I have described to my friends that my dog is acting more like a child these days. He sleeps with his head on the pillow and I have to urge him to get out of the bed, rubbing his little big paws, and explaining that “Dutch, it’s really time to get up darling—they day will start without you” and “Okay son, I’ve already showered, you really must get out of the bed now…” to which he will stand-up, stretch out his bad leg, and resituate.

Where we have a mutual understanding is over Breakfast. I stand over the counter, eating something on a paper towel, and he leans over his step-stool elevated bowl because I’m a bad mother that hasn’t gotten him a proper eating dish for his size. My favorite childhood breakfast used to be a fried egg. Fried the real way, the way Grandmothers do it. Sunny side up with butter spooned over the top and a side of crispy toast to dip into the yolk, yum.

Because of the rain, I couldn’t wear what I had dutifully picked out the night before (a teal and white floral embroidered skirt) so I grabbed something that I haven’t worn in months—a conservative black belted shift dress and my old, old, old pink Gap raincoat. As I was walking out the door, I thought about how much my grandmother loves pink and if only she could see me in my coat…only a few minutes later, as I was pulling out of Starbucks, my mom called to say that Mimi had been put in the hospital. This is not intended to be a sad sap story, for as I mentioned, I am an Episcopalian—and we celebrate life to the fullest—especially at funerals!

But the signs were there today and I had to recognize them. For those of you that don’t know Mimi, she is 92 and spunky! She is also my namesake and my reason for loving poodles. For those of you that do know her, I have it on good authority that the Banana Bread recipe has been found and properly stowed away!

Happy Good Friday to you all, and may you see and be grateful of the signs as they are presented to you! And “do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing, some people have entertained angels unaware”.