Tuesday of Holy Week
It's raining today, which seems appropriate. I feel a sense of anticipation and of waiting: Sunday's palms no longer waving, the drama of Good Friday yet to begin.
I also did a lot of literal waiting, as I was in line at the post office for an hour on my lunch break. I tried to eat hurriedly when I got back, but my tuna salad was watery and my sandwich fell apart. I was frustrated. My coworker reminded me that it was Holy Week and that my frustrations could be prayer.
I think that for many of us, much of the story of our faith is like the Tuesday of Holy Week. The times when we're awed by Hosannas come and go, like Palm Sunday. And the times when our integrity is put to a dramatic test or we're offered the chance to be heroic come rarely, like Good Friday. Most of the time, we have ordinary paths to take in accompanying God or neighbor. Many days, like Tuesdays, are full of ordinary waiting, ordinary prayer.
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