Good Friday, Mt. Cristo Rey

Making a pilgrimage up Mt. Cristo Rey on Good Friday is a big deal around here.  I went the first year we lived here, but little ones have kept me away since then.  This year we did it as a family, and my mom was able to join us!  We arrived at a very busy time, so we had to park very far away from the start of the hike.  By the time we got back to our van, my mom's pedometer read that we had walked about 8 miles!  I am very proud of all my kids for being such troopers.   Jon and I each carried a child on our backs which worked out well.  Jon also had all the waters on his back and the heavier child, so he got an especially good workout.  It was beautiful to walk and remember the walk Jesus took on his final journey to the cross.  If we were tired, we remembered how tired Jesus was for our sake.  If I stumbled and fell and skinned my knees and hands (yep), I was able to remember the wounds of Jesus on the first Good Friday.  

This hike was meaningful to me in so many ways.  It was so nice to be with my mom.  It was so nice to be there with all my kids (even though Brishen just ran by us a couple times with his youth group) because we are proving that we are emerging from the years of having tiny kids that keep us at home.  It was nice to be there with so many others, some walking barefoot, some carrying actual crosses, each of us honoring the fact that we are not worthy of what the Savior has given us.  It was so nice to feel a little pain and burn in honor of Good Friday.

 If you look closely, you can see the winding path full of those making the pilgrimage.  

 We stopped for the 14 stations of the cross to read and pray and reflect--and pick up rocks and take drinks and eat grapes, of course.

Here is the triumphant picture my mom took when we reached the cross.  I told the kids that they can feel so proud of themselves every single time we drive past that mountain and see that cross.  They did it!