Holy week is my favorite time of year, especially the Triduum. It's the one time of year when there are tons of religious activities going on. Because I work I'm not able to make it to most of the activities, but I try to go to as many as I can. And at the end of it all is the Triduum, when mass is held in the evenings at a reasonable time, that I can go to.
This year I didn't go to any Triduum services because Thursday afternoon I became ill. I spent then entire weekend in bed, except for the hour on Easter morning when I drug myself to the entirely too early Latin Mass. I would have preferred to go to Mass later in the day, but with how packed the churches are on Easter Sunday, I decided that I would infect less people if I went to the sparcely attended Latin Mass.
I took a seat as far away from the other 50 or so people in the Cathedral and didn't go to communion. The Latin Mass was as foreign as ever, but since I have been practicing my Latin prayers there were a few recognizable words.
Before I knew it, Lent and Easter were over and I felt so cheated out of the wonder and beauty that is the Triduum. I should be joyous that even though I missed the suffering and misery, I was there to witness the resurrection. To have Jesus with us, once again, to spread the glorious news of God. Instead, I'm feeling like Thomas who focused on what was lost and couldn't see what was gained.
So throughout this Easter season I am going in search of the beauty of Christ's return; walk with him as he reveals himself to his followers; look at the world with new eyes; think wiht a new mind; and love in a new way.