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There’s a cross at the end of this week, but I’m having a hard time finding it.

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It still seems silly, the whole Easter candy thing, but I bought chocolate Easter bunnies in Walmart last week. Five of them (four for the boys and one for the mom who wondered aloud if babies got Easter treats). Then I read about ethical chocolate and now I have chocolate guilt because I’m guessing these bunnies are the unethical sort. And what does any of it have to do with that looming cross, anyway?

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The wind is cold and last year’s soggy leaves cover the ground and inside we are all coughing and blowing our sore noses and it’s hard to find the holy in this week that’s named such. There’s that cross waiting down the road a ways but when I sit and try to think on it for a bit, my eyes close and my thoughts wander and I feel bad when I can’t make myself feel what I want to feel. It’s not the end of the world, I tell myself, but it’s my world and we’re sick and that’s real life, right now.

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Sometimes, writing real things feels like complaining. And not very holy at all.

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I’ve never watched Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ, except for the parts that have been played during communion from time to time. I resisted watching it when it first came out, even though I got raised eyebrows and was told it was something every Christian should see. I resisted though, because I’ve learned the movie is never as good as the book and I really like that book. And I wasn’t sure I wanted the movie to play in my mind every time I read those verses or thought about those events. I know it’s a movie some people watch this week to help them feel the holy.

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The moon was blood red one night this week, Passover, but I forgot to look and the lunar eclipse happened without my experiencing of it. Isn’t that just the way it is sometimes. The event happens whether I remember to experience it or not. The documentation is all I have to go by. Other people’s writing of it. Other people’s pictures of it. It’s like that this holy week. I’m reading other people’s holy words, seeing holy through their eyes. Sometimes that’s all you’ve got, and it’s better than nothing.

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There’s a cross at the end of this week. And a weeping mother and a bleeding son and mocking crowd. I wish my heart would engage more with it all. I’m not sure why it won’t – maybe it’s all that coughing – but that’s honesty and real life for you. Sometimes, I have to simply know and honour, even when I can’t feel. God knows why the feelings are absent. God knows.

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