It's Good Friday, and I smile to think of a Good Friday quite a few years ago, when a local church canopy with a cross on top had been knocked down earlier in the week by an oversized delivery truck.
The pastor contacted my eldest son Mark with hopes he could have the canopy and the cross replaced in time for Easter. Mark made the promise; it would be a rush job, cut very close.
On Good Friday, the last item to be completed was the cross; it was built, painted and ready to go. Not thinking of the significance of the day, Mark showed up at the church with the cross and due to Good Friday services had to park down the street and carry that big heavy cross to the church.
So careful and painstaking was he, struggling along in his work clothes, and people began to gather around.
Suddenly it dawned on my first-born... they thought HE was the Good Friday pageant!