Good Friday
By Christina Rossetti
Am I a stone and not a sheep
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy Cross,
To number drop by drop Thy Blood's slow loss,
And yet not weep?
Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;
Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon —
I, only I.
Yet give not o'er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.
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Maddy didn't have to work till late afternoon on Thursday, so we woke her up early and took her to see her grandparents in Pennsylvania. We all had lunch at Hibachi Buffet Grill and hung out at their house for a while, looking at photos and helping them with their email, before we drove back to take Maddy to the mall for work and Paul's parents got ready for Easter weekend. Paul and I went briefly to the park since it was such a gorgeous day, then we came home for chores and a bit of work related stuff.
A friend in the UK provided me with the penultimate episode of Broadchurch, which we watched while eating peanut butter sandwiches because we were too full from lunch for dinner. This whole season has been excellent and upsetting. Afterward, wanting something light, we watched Sing, which is goofy but more realistic about Hollywood than Cafe Society, heh. For Good Friday, here is Toulouse's Basilique Notre-Dame de la Daurade, originally a pagan temple to Apollo converted in 410, with its famous Black Madonna:
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