The phone call never came and I didn't call either. As it were, it was for the best. I was tired from a bladder infection and after laundry, a care planning meeting for mother, a lengthy visit with her, some blogging, I was just wanting a little quiet down time with God...not some crowded, complicated Via Crucis en vivo.
So I ate some leftovers and went over to St. Ann's. As I watched the church fill for the Spanish Good Friday service, I remembered several years ago when I first proposed the idea of offering Viernes Santo at a time and in a language that worked for our community. Back then it was attended by a couple of dozen stalwarts. Now there are many and the line to venerate the Cross seemed interminable.
Mothers came up with little children, showing them how to bless themselves and pay respect to Our Savior. Gawky adolescents made quick genuflections and nervously touched the Cross. Everyone had their own style -- mine being a sort of oriental gasho and a kiss firmly planted in the center of the Cross.
I watched Fr. Jorge and felt happy that I had lobbied for the diocese to assign him to St. Ann's. He is more traditional than I am, but the number of people in attendance last night and the relative smoothness of the service are testimony to his good relationship with the community. My "family" now has the father it has always needed and deserves. They are bonding with him and my heart is glad.