I appreciate when Good Friday is overcast. It seems appropriate.
I know, this isn’t the actual day that Jesus died. But I suspect the Earth knows the right day; that it bears a scar the way you can see a storm in the rings of a tree, even if humanity has lost track. So today, when we collectively choose to remember, awakens the memory of that day. The skies turn gray and dreary, casting a pall over a quiet world. Because it knows better than we do what it is to be without Him.