Today is Good Friday. Catholics are supposed to attend a long service which includes the Stations of the Cross. There was a passing moment today when I missed the tradition of attending the service and felt a homesickness. There was somewhere I needed to be. The feeling reminded me of a song I heard at Godfrey Daniels a long time ago.
Susan Werner’s Sunday Morning:
SUNDAY MORNING – LYRICS
there is someplace that ‘m supposed to be
the feeling keeps coming over me
just like music
or like sunlight on a distant memory
my mother choosing what to wear
my father combs his jet black hair
we are their little prizes
in our mary janes and clip on ties
we hurry down the aisle
the neighbors smile because we’re
on sunday morning
there is someplace …
daddy prays because the money’s tight
mama prays she’ll raise her children right
and my brother prays he’ll change
so he won’t feel so very strangely out of tune
and i went back the other day
closed my eyes and tried to pray
but a voice spoke loud and clear
“you ask too many questions, dear”
and i said, “you ask too few”
that’s why i still don’t know quite what to do
on sunday mornings …
I was at work. My husband texted me that he threw out his back making coffee. We ended up canceling our planned trip to Philadelphia Art Museum. I was looking forward to returning to the work of masters to honor creativity. It was where I’ve been wanting be for a while now. Instead….
I stayed a little longer at the office, then picked up the groceries for the holiday weekend. While I was making dinner, the kids were creating their own gallery in the front yard.
It’s as if they craved looking at art, too.
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