Sunday, May 22, 2011

Happy Apocalypse! See you Monday.

We can know. That's what they claimed.

So on Friday my coworkers and I jokingly quipped, "Happy Apocalypse! See you Monday."

While driving around this weekend, though, I did ponder: What if? What if Jesus did come back? Or, less eschatologically, what if I died that night? What if my tomorrow never came?

First reaction, "thank you, God, for this amazing life, for the blessings You've poured out unto me, for the opportunities, the family, the friends, everything." Gratefulness.

Second reaction, after reading my friend Lynnea's blog post, "have I lived up to my Calling?" As she asked, if Jesus came back today, "would you be coming back for me?.... Or would you pass me by?"

As time went on more and more Facebook statuses confirmed the Rapture had, in fact, not come (or if it did, heaven apparently has wifi). This leads me to believe the sun will probably still rise tomorrow. Yet in my mind the questions remain pertinent.

Yes, the crazies of the world give us something to laugh about, and doomsayers will always live amongst us. Instead of brushing them off, I will choose instead to heed their warnings as a reminder for introspection.

Thursday, May 19, 2011


Easter happened. Came and went, fading too quickly into distant memory. A thief in the night. I feel robbed.

I feel robbed because I wanted to mourn. I wanted two and a half days spent in utter despair, tears free to flow. I wanted to feel. I wanted to put myself once more in that dark place I felt approaching the cross as Peter in AWAKEN. My friend, hanging on a cross. Buried in a tomb. My life once again mundane, tedious, hopeless.

I wanted to spend two and a half days praying. Crying out to God. Pouring my heart into private and corporate worship. Gathering with friends in our own [metaphorical] upper room.

Instead I feel cheated. The Triduum, historically my favorite series of church services in the liturgical calendar, cheapened Easter for me this year. We didn't crucify Jesus until Friday night, and then barely 26 hours later, Saturday night, we rung bells celebrating resurrection. Easter. I was not ready.

A month later, I'm still struggling to cope.