Were tomorrow Friday, my thoughts might be somewhat more relevant and my posting, timely. I apologize for my internal clock which has newly changed batteries and yet seems to be skipping beats to make a point.
The best of Friday felicitations from the sandbox, my friends. For some of you, tomorrow is a reflective holy day, a solemn step toward pending joy.
For others, the day becomes a euphemism as the start of a process, an ultimate new beginning, a resurrection if you will. For most of us, it will be a Good Friday indeed … regardless of its definition or intent.
And for an unlucky few, the day becomes unfortunate and simply a day of thus-pegged and rather pixilated irony.
However you may interpret, plan, or simply allow your day to unfold, may it be what you want it to be. And, more importantly, what ever you NEED it to be.
One lone Friday is but one day. I will spend my day in my own manner. I shall pay silent homage to Easters past and those folk who anxiously laid my foundation, and its many subsequent refurbishes.
Henry and I will revel in the brilliant relationships that grace my life today. It is those connections that fuel my soul, give me hope, and define my humanity. They also keep me stocked in sweet iced tea, okra pickles, and fresh pineapple.
My soul, my hope, and my humanity (as I humbly understand them) are going to make the most of the day and I shall call it a good Friday.
There is no such measure of time that is “JUST” a day. All days have measure and worth. Believe that!
What ya think, Lillian? Dark chocolate “peanut butter” truffles? Fruit-shaped marzipan? Jelly Bellies?
(Image: “The Last Supper” by Adam Lister, 2014.)