solemn huh?

We went to Veneration of the Cross on Good Friday.  It’s the first time we’ve gone in many years, finally deciding that if we waited until we didn’t have a house full of little ones that we’d never make it.

It’s always beautiful.  It always makes me cry.

Sometimes, as it often is in a large family, you are presented with a situation that will just make you laugh.

Twice.

On Good Friday.

Yep.

First, our one year old has discovered (much to our dismay) how incredibly terrible the echo is in our parish.  It’s bad. The entire diocese, it seems, knows how bad the acoustics are here.  Combine terrible acoustics with an energetic toddler in a quiet moment, and well, you get the picture.  He started shouting in an attempt at a fit, discovered how incredibly wonderful it sounded and just kept going.  At pretty consistent intervals of, oh say, 30 seconds or so, another shout would ring out.  I made a mad dash for the cry room, but didn’t get there before my whole clan could be seen shaking from quashed giggles.

When it was finally time for veneration I came back in and sat down next to the 6 yo (#4).  We were standing, waiting, watching and taking it all in.  He was concentrating so hard, and seemed so serious.  I thought it was so beautiful, he was really moved by what was going on!  Then he leaned over, looked at me and said “mama, it’s a wood cross.”  “yes, it is, of course.  So was the cross that Jesus was nailed to.  That’s why it’s wood here.”  “but mom, it’s a woodcross.”  “yes, yes, you’re right.”  “Mom, we’re going to kiss a WOOD cross!”  “yes, darling, we are shhhhh”

And then it dawns on me.  I have one of those “ah ha” moments people are always talking about.  “Honey” I say “you don’t want to kiss the wood cross do you?”  “no, mama, I don’t”  “you’re afraid you’re going to get splinters, aren’t you???”  “Yes, mama, I am, it’s a wood cross, how are we not?” 

I then explained that Father carried it all the way from the back of the church to where it was now, there in the front and didn’t get one splinter.  I explained that all those people in front of us kissing the cross weren’t getting splinters and then I explained that as long as he didn’t rub his lips on it he should be fine.  He was great with those answers.  He was back to looking so beautifully holy, as only young children can, and I was back to admiring the strength of his faith.