Good Friday

There is so much I want to share with you guys, especially about my baby shower last weekend, but it will have to wait until tomorrow.

Even though I've done a terrible job on this blog observing Lent and Holy Week (somehow baby stuff seems to trump all else in my mind!), I do at least want to pause and honor Good Friday.

My family will be eating the traditional Hot Cross Buns, which we only make once a year. Usually we just kind of live on these all day.

For your reflection, here is a small section of T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets relevant to this day:

From "East Coker"

IV.

The wounded surgeon plies the steel
That questions the distempered part;
Beneath the bleeding hands we feel
The sharp compassion of the healer's art
Resolving the enigma of the fever chart.

  Our only health is the disease
If we obey the dying nurse
Whose constant care is not to please
But to remind of our, and Adam's curse,
And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.

  The whole earth is our hospital
Endowed by the ruined millionaire,
Wherein, if we do well, we shall
Die of the absolute paternal care
That will not leave us, but prevents us everywhere.

  The chill ascends from feet to knees,
The fever sings in mental wires.
If to be warmed, then I must freeze
And quake in frigid purgatorial fires
Of which the flame is roses, and the smoke is briars.

  The dripping blood our only drink,
The bloody flesh our only food:
In spite of which we like to think
That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood—
Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.


Last year's Good Friday post here