The Holy Week that was...

I was tired, tired, tired...I was in no mood for the Holy Week.

Pascal Triduum

I was at home with my family, hoping to do a lot of spiritual reading, praying, meditating on the Lord's journey to the grave and back but instead I was mopping around the house, feeling terribly insipid and almost paralyzed by lethargy. 


I couldn't figure out why?
Made my confession? check
Personal prayer (off late, it's becoming terribly whinny sort of praying, nevertheless...)? check
Served the Church (though my tiny prayer group)? Check


Then why O why, this misery? The nights were restless with insomnia. Not that I suffer from it but the restlessness of my spirit disturbed my peace and offered me no rest.


It was the worst on Good Friday...


On Easter, the darkness lifted.
I somehow felt that, in a smallish sort of way, I was participating in the Lord's passion. I never did realise what my restlessness of spirit was about but a dear friend in who I confided my malady, advised me to seek healing in the Eucharist. After all, the Lord is the penultimate, Divine healer. That night at the Vigil, tired and worn out I looked to the Lord and in my soul, I asked (begged) 'Lord, if you are willing, heal and deliver me.'


That night, I slept...


I am still tired after the last week but I am hopeful and not burdened.