Thursday becomes friday

I couldn't sleep. Went to bed around eleven-thirty and I think I woke up a little before three. Heard Isaac come in around four. I finally got up at five. Went over and worked in the office a bit. I was hoping no one would come in since I just had my bathrobe and slippers on, and a stocking cap.

Last night we had our Maundy Thursday service. There were six people besides me, Jane and Carrie. We started with a meal. Vegetable and Chicken noodle soup, bread, water, and grape juice. After reading Luke 22:14-23, and sharing about what communion meant to us, we broke bread and drank ...juice. Then I read John 13:1-17, and a piece on footwashing out of a magazine. Someone gave it to me. It was actually out of Oprah's magazine (I have never been a big Oprah fan). Then those who wanted to wash feet did that. There were three of us guys. I washed the feet of the oldest guy there, then he washed the other guys, then that guy washed mine. We had all talked about how it's often harder to have your feet washed than to do the washing. After that everyone walked through the Stations of the Cross set up in the sanctuary. I got the pictures off a website, and I use a devotion and prayer from Tony Joneses book 'The Sacred Way.' I asked everyone to leave in silence. Jane and I then spent another hour or two putting everything away. I would guess I probably spent over eight hours getting ready and tearing down. For six people. Which doesn't include the fact that I already had the boards and tables for the Stations, I had already made the pics and wordings, already had black tablecloths for each of the fourteen areas, Jane had made black curtains to cover the sanctuary windows, and that doesn't include her time preparing food and whatnot also. I'm not sure what this means for next year.

We talked a little about how to make it so more people might come. But it kind of seems that most people don't come because it's just too ...uncomfortable. And to make it more comfortable would kind of defeat the purpose of what it's all about. I mean, taking up your cross and following Jesus isn't supposed to be comfortable. Sacrifice isn't supposed to be *nice.* And that seems to be the great dilemma. We all want served, we want things done how *we* want them, and few seem willing to bend down and do for others.

All night I kept thinking about an old friend. Perhaps the best friend I've ever had. He was quite a lot older than me. He epitomized servanthood more than anyone I have ever known. He passed away several years ago. He used to get everything ready for the feetwashing time. I really miss him. Especially now. I can't even type this without...

The journey through the Stations really didn't have any meaning to me... until I got to number eleven. Where they were nailing Jesus to the cross.

Basically this night left me with a whole lotta questions; some serious heartache; and not much in the way of answers of any kind.

My ear is bothering me again. My head feels lopsided. It's early Friday morning and I'm going to be eating leftover soup for several days.