A Mother's Way of the Cross

                                                    

Today for Good Friday the kids and I took a wee road trip to a basilica in our area that has beautiful, outdoor, full-size Stations of the Cross.  The Way of the Cross starts at a picnic area at the bottom of the hill, and winds along a path through the woods, up the hill to the basilica, which is a high lookout point with an amazing view of the southern part of our state.

                           

The weather today was gorgeous, and I have been looking forward to making this little pilgrimage on Good Friday for, like, a year.  I had it all planned out:  On the way out of town we stopped to join in with friends at a pro-life vigil for a short chaplet, then we drove and listened to the kids' CD of bible stories, then we arrived, strolled up the winding Stations path praying a special Way of the Cross for children, enjoyed our peaceful picnic in the beautiful sunshine before quietly admiring the beautiful basilica, and prayed the Rosary together before loading up to head home.

                          

As if!  I really think that God loves it when I make these kinds of idyllic little plans.  He gets a good laugh, that's for sure.  When we got to the basilica, I discovered that it is PACKED there on Good Friday!  Packed, as in, they were directing traffic in the parking lot like it was a stadium parking lot! (Indeed, some people were tailgating, which I thought was pretty cool.)  So we made our way to the first Station--beautiful, everything was awesome, even though packed--except I was stressed by the fact that they had these huge speakers blaring out Gregorian Chant and I could barely speak above it to pray with the kids.  Not to mention the other large groups of, uh, pilgrims who were totally in our way at each station.  And then a large guided group with a microphone started praying one Station behind us, which was totally distracting.  And JPD kept a) running away, b) climbing up the hills around the statuary, c) rolling in the leaves, and d) running precariously along the edge of the trail near a steep dropoff into a ravine.  Oh, and MPD started screaming to be held, instead of staying in his stroller.  And WWD and I had to carry the stroller (as well as MPD) up several flights of very steep steps cut out of the hill. 

                             

By the time we made it to about the 12th Station, I was so stressed out I was almost in tears.  And then--no kidding--I believe that the Holy Spirit suddenly gave me a huge infusion of grace.  Like a beam of light streaming into my little pea brain, He illuminated the fact that my uphill walk was my own, mother's version of the Way of the Cross!  There I was, carrying a squirming, fussy baby, pushing the stroller with the other hand, chasing a spirited preschooler, trying to achieve some degree of reverence with three older children who were at least as interested in just finding a good walking stick in the woods, and I was almost in tears in frustration that the whole thing didn't match my idea of peaceful Good Friday prayers--well, God be praised!  It was His own way of giving me the most teeniest, tiniest, most minute share of His extreme and unimaginable suffering along the road to Calvary! 

                              

As usual, Mom learned more than the kids today.  After God cleared that up for me, we had a great day. 

Thy Will Be Done!   +JMJ+