Good Friday and CD1

I didn't get out of bed this morning until 11:30 (almost not morning - and did I really just admit that on the internet?!). The cramping indicating today would be CD1, weighed on me both physically and emotionally. I had plans to take advantage of this beautiful day and go for a run this morning. Plans to start reclaiming my house from the fur that has taken it over. Plans to finish my final paper for this semester. And then the Good Friday Liturgy. Instead I stayed in bed, drifting between unsettled sleep, sorrow, and beating myself up for being selfish, I mean it is Good Friday and certainly Jesus hanging on a cross was way worse than CD1. I didn't even get up to make Kali be quiet when she barked at the mail lady (sorry mail lady!).

Then, I read Ecce Fiat's post (yay for Feedly's app!): Good Friday: yes, it really is that bad.

It was just what I needed to get myself up and moving, a little validation. Don't be too impressed. Upon getting out of bed and going to the bathroom, I was greeted by AF. In the hour or so since, I've only made it to the couch where I'm blogging and watching TV under my favorite blanket.

I have to get moving soon because our Good Friday Liturgy is at 3:00. The Hour of Mercy. During the proclamation of The Passion of the Lord, I will be the voices and the crowd and will proclaim the words of Peter and deny Jesus; the shouts of the crowds to crucify Him. This Lent, I have focused a lot of my prayer on how my sins today contributed to the death of Jesus. It's not just an event of the past, not merely a story we retell once a year. When Jesus willingly accepted the nails in His hands and the crown of thorns upon His head, He accepted all sins from all men, from all time. He accepted my sins. He accepted the times I've denied Him, the times that, through my sin, I shouted out for His crucifixion. It seems fitting that this is how I will end Lent, saying the words out loud, in a sense claiming my role. Lord, may I have the grace to ask for and accept your mercy as Peter did, for without out it, I am Judas. Judas, whose greatest sin was not betraying the Lord, we all do that, but rather the inability to humble himself and ask for and accept forgiveness.

I've prayed this week, knowing that AF would likely arrive sometime during the Triduum, for the grace to accept His will and to be able to repeat the words of Christ in the garden, 'Thy will be done," and to mean it, when I more often am asking Him to take this cross of infertility away, to let it "pass from me." As a new cycle begins, with bleeding and pain, I am trying to realize that it is bad and it is a part of my sanctification, the cross I've been asked to carry. I am also trying to realize that it is an opportunity to unite this suffering with Christ's on the cross, the most life-giving event in human history. CD1 is always the end of one dream, a death of sorts. But it is also the start of something new. Just as the bleeding of Christ on the cross made all things new, so too does this bleeding indicate something new, a new cycle, new hope will follow it, maybe not today, but it will come.


  1. I felt really moved to pray for you suddenly this morning at breakfast. Love and prayers!

  2. I am so sorry... sending many hugs!

  3. Its so helpful to hear your reflections, especially since i haven had the greatest lent, and prayer lately. I hope easter week brings you joy and hope, even in the midst of AFs presence.

  4. "Thy Will be Done" are words close to my heart right now. We just have to trust and believe. Happy Easter!