Tonight I sat in the sanctuary filled with people from most of the churches in Sebastian, Florida.  Remembering. It was a moving Good Friday service filled with brutal mixtures of sorrow and joy.

Earlier in the week, I watched a magnificently beautiful video that features the photos of two photographers who are on staff at First United Methodist Church in Melbourne.  I was reminded by the amazingly magnificent images that my husband–who died in May 2011–was the person who taught me to recognize and appreciate the beauty in nature.

Sitting quietly, while colors and figures burst before me, my heart almost skipped a beat when I realized that this would be Frank’s first Resurrection Day in heaven.  Therefore, I felt Sunday would be a great day for my husband because he is a person who notes times and dates.  I cried, overwhelmed with the thought of his joy and from the beauty of the photos merging in and out on the screen or swimming effortlessly onto and off the wall.

Tonight at the Good Friday service and after the sermon, we shared communion.  The Bible tells us to have days to remember. Communion is a direct outgrowth of a memory directive from Jesus.  Somehow I was jolted back to the video of nature’s bounty. Remembering the tears I had shed earlier this week.  Those tears were a bitter-sweet mixture.

Again, tonight I cried.  The death of Jesus changed all of humanity–whether you accept his love or not.  The memory of his death and suffering is a piercing blow to our senses.  But we all know that Sunday is coming and, therefore, in the middle of our tears, we lift our hands and hearts in resounding thankfulness for God’s love, mercy and grace.