Holy Week – Mahal na Araw – was impossible to miss back home.
Our kids rarely step inside crying rooms – mostly because the little chapel we go to on Sundays doesn’t have one. Everyone there knows our kids and I’m sure would tolerate practically any mischief on their part, but this only impels us even more to help our kids stay quiet (for the most part, anyway).
Just last week, the trees in our street and backyard were practically bare. Now they’re almost completely covered with green – as are the (pollen-laden) streets and cars. The growth of new life is in full swing.
There is a beautiful tradition in the Philippines, usually held at 3 or 4 o’clock on Easter morning, called the “Salubong” – literally, the act of meeting someone who is arriving. I’ve only attended one of these, as far as I can recall, but one is all you really need in order to appreciate this very poignant experience of Easter morn, where deep sorrow turns into indescribable joy.