Day 21 - Stations Revisited

Today marked the end of a very long week, and I ended it in a very lovely way – doing something I haven’t done since grade school.  I’d say that it qualifies as new.  Earlier in the week, my girlfriend Katie texted me to see if I wanted to go Stations of the Cross at Old St. Mary’s today.  I had tentative plans for the evening, so I wasn’t sure I would be able to go, but I found myself feeling like it was something I really needed to do.  When my other plans were rescheduled, I decided to join her.

My memories of grade school are not the sharpest, but I’m pretty sure we had to go to Stations every week during Lent (and that was how I felt about it – I had to go).  I remember the experience in that vague way that I remember so much of my childhood.  I remember the smell of the wooden pews, the shape and color of the stations hung at evenly spaced intervals around the church, and I remember having to either stand far away from each plague or climb over pews to get close to it. 

Mostly, I remember thinking that the Stations lasted so, so long.  The half hour or so they must have taken felt like an eternity in my tiny, pre-pubescent world.  My mind would wander to something, anything – most likely an upcoming test, or what was in my lunchbox, or the candy I had given up for Lent.  Feeling guilty, I would wrench my thoughts back to the moment, and try to wrap my mind around the story that was being told to me, for me, and around me.  I tried to grasp it, feel it, understand it, or identify with it in some way.  I simply could not comprehend the enormity of Christ’s journey, and invariably, I would feel as though I was missing something – like everyone else was “getting” something that I wasn’t. 

Returning to the Stations of the Cross as an adult was, in many ways, a very different experience.  Remembering how long they used to feel, I was almost startled by the brevity of the service – in the same way that, upon returning to a former grade school, one is shocked by the tiny chairs and knee-high water fountains.  There were a small number in attendance, but it was a meaningful and faith-filled experience, and I was able to draw my attention not just to the story being told, but to consider the meaning of Christ’s journey in my life – to have the kind of integrated, reflective, and truly prayerful experience I longed for as a child.

One might question whether I see any value in those hours spent at the Stations of the Cross in my youth.  The answer is an emphatic, yes. It was the seeds planted in those years, the relationship with God I didn’t realize I was building, that allowed me to fully appreciate and experience my time in Old St. Mary’s today. 

There are so many things in our lives that we do because we know, instinctively, that they are good for us.  We go to school, we read, we build relationships, we eat well, we exercise, we pray.  Often, in the midst of these endeavors, we feel like we might somehow be missing the point - like everyone is dancing and we’re the only one who can’t hear the music.  Then, one day, we have a moment like I did today – where our past experiences collide with our present, and the result is something truly beautiful and new.   Today, I’m thankful for my past and the gift it is to my present.