Good Friday, at it's finest

Today is Good Friday. In the Christian faith, Good Friday is a day of mourning and sacrifice. The day of Christ's crucifixion. In the church I grew up in, we "celebrated" this day by decorating the church in black. The alter was stripped of all decoration and draped in black. There was no singing in the service, and the focus was entirely on the grief wrapped around the sacrifice of God's Son. I have always found this day to be important to me, and so relevant. One can not fully experience the joy of standing on the mountain top, of a life renewed, without first traveling through the depths of the valleys.
So I find it somewhat fitting that today our day is filled with Simon's CT scan and the funeral of a close friend.
As most of you know, I grew up as an only child, but never really considered myself one. Next door to my house lived The Nace's - Sandy, Larry, and their eventual four children. I met Jenna and Roberta when I was three, maybe four, and as their family grew to include Grady and Jody, I got experience life as a big sister. I love this family as my own, and always will. Last Friday, Larry, their father, passed away unexpectedly in his sleep. There is a whole story regarding his heart, but the gist of it is that we all know exactly where he is. As christians go, he was one of the strongest and most amazing. It was his goal in life to be a man of God, and he was very successful. So today we celebrate his life, because as Christians we also know that there is joy in the mourning.
Simon, on the other hand, probably won't be up to too much celebrating. The CT scan is done already, but in order to do it we had to sedate his wiggly self. The scan took all of two minutes and now we are sort of stuck here waiting for him to wake up. I don't think we'll know any results right away, but as soon as we do I'll keep you posted.
So today, on this Good Friday, don't forget to look for the joy that is coming. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and in the meantime, don't be afraid to grieve.

From A whole heap of pictures