At a certain point I guess you need to stop caring what everyone else thinks. Understand and realize that you don't need their approval. Learn to be happy even in the face of those who persecute you. Open your heart to joy even when it is not reflected in those around you. Even when all you see is arrogance, closed-mindedness and disapproval looking back.



For someone who was born and raised yearning for that approval, that praise and love, all of this has been the hardest thing that God has ever asked of me. Maybe it's only because this is the first time that I have ever really cared, or bothered to listen to Him. I have been at odds with others before but never on a level like this. There's a frustration and a hurt deep in my soul that I have never felt before. I know where my solace lies, but finding it there is harder than I realized. I think this is really, truly the first time I have had nothing left but my faith to comfort me. There is nothing left that I can do. I have to place everything in God's hands and trust Him to take care of it. This is what they'll all tell you, all the Christians you'll ever meet. "Trust in God." It's an easy concept, and easy to say; hard to do.



I've been wanting to share my first experience of the entire Triduum in the Catholic Church: Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil. I want to write down everything I can remember so I'll never forget. It's hard though, putting it in here. I wanted to share my joy with the whole world but most of the world doesn't care. I wanted everyone to feel the things I felt. I wanted people to be happy for me. I suppose that's not the best way of phrasing it, because people ARE happy for me. So I guess, I ONLY wanted people to be happy for me. As in, I wish I could have postponed the realization that some aren't happy for me, and just lived simply in the glow of my little happiness for a day or two. To have been completely free to bask in the joy of the Lord for awhile with others who would share in it.



God has other things in mind for me, somewhat to the dismay of my selfish little self. My selfish little self expects certain things. Expects to feel a certain way at a certain time about a certain thing. Haha, silly me! God deliberately holds out on those expected moments a little bit. They're still good, but more in retrospect I guess. They pass and I don't feel much different... sometimes I have to go back later and look at them and analyze them, and look at how my life changed after them (because or in spite of). The unexpected moments are the ones where I feel the closeness and the love. Look for the joy in all things, God reminds me. If I hold out for a rose, how many daisies will I miss? He lets my roses wilt a little bit I think. It's okay; I am learning. I hold my wilting roses in a fistful of perfect daisies, and I'm satisfied.



Thursday and Friday were absolutely amazing Masses. I can't convey the beauty in words, although that won't stop me from trying. I don't even think anyone will care, but I wish I could share it with everyone anyway. But... you can't love what you don't know.



The things that stuck out to me during Thursday's Mass:

- The joyful singing of the Gloria with bells ringing. The gloria is not heard during Lent because Lent is a time of penance and preparation. Holy Thursday is a celebration, a joyful remembrance of the institution of the Eucharist and the priesthood. A solemn celebration too, because we all know what happens next in the story... but for this Mass we remember and celebrate the gifts he left for us.

- The washing of the feet. Mostly what stuck out about it was that it was part of the Gospel reading, rather than after it.

- The homily. An excellent homily. Father Mark talked about knowledge, love, service, and hope. Love is more than an emotion. You can't love what you don't know. No servant is greater than his master. Love one another, as I have loved you.

- The procession of the Eucharist to the altar of repose. Incense and chanting in Latin. The leftover Eucharist is usually kept in the tabernacle, but on Thursday and Friday the tabernacle is empty, the doors left wide open. The sacrament is moved to the altar of repose, which on Thursday is surrounded by fresh flowers. The candle that normally burns day and night by the tabernacle to signify the presence of Jesus burns out.



After Thursday's Mass Joe and I watched The Passion of the Christ again (it happened to be playing at the Palace). I didn't cry at all this time, and I did keep my eyes open through the entire thing. The same welling of emotion at the point where Jesus meets his Mother. This time the audience was full of weepers, moaning and sniffling. It's only a movie. A very important story though.



Things that stuck out to me on Good Friday:

- This is the only day of the year that the Eucharist is not consecrated; instead the consecrated Hosts from Thursday evening are distributed to the faithful. I stress again -- this is the ONLY day of the year that the bread and wine are not consecrated. Out of respect -- this is the day He actually died.

- The prayers of the faithful. Stand, kneel. Ten times. All the Catholics everywhere in the world are praying for the same things. Our Church. Our leaders. Our brothers and sisters. Very powerful.

- The procession of the cross. As the priests were carrying the cross up the center aisle, the choir stopped singing, and at that moment the clock struck 3. Three o'clock is traditionally thought to be the time that Jesus died. The timing was impeccable.

- The veneration of the cross. All the faithful are invited to the altar to kiss the cross as a remembrance of His sacrifice. This is the only event of the three days that almost had me in tears. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.



My memories from Easter Vigil are listed in a previous post. That was an unforgettable night, but overshadowed by other things... nervousness, tension. As an active participant I think I missed some of the subtle beauty I saw in the previous two. It was overwhelming, and I was almost relieved when it was over. Easter was a beginning for me this year. Not an end to Lent and a joy of getting back to normal, getting back all of the things given up for Lent; for me, a beginning of a new life. A complete end to an old life. A decision not to be taken back. Sobering, as well as celebratory. As a wedding should be.