In the small alcove on the right side of our church, where the prayer candles are, we have some of the precious little statuary in the whole place.  We have one of Our Lady of Guadalupe hanging on the wall above the candles, and to the left of the candles we have a freestanding statue of Joseph holding the child Jesus.  Jesus is holding a small cross.

Following Mass this past Sunday, I went to speak to one of the acolytes for a few minutes.  My wife and daughter lit a candle, as has become our custom, because my daughter wants to pray for her soon-to-be-born baby sister.  After lighting the candle and kneeling for prayer, my daughter and my wife were talking a bit about the statuary, and rather out of the blue, my daughter said, “The statue of Joseph and Jesus is a nice statue.  May I kiss the cross?”

Good Friday comes early?  She’s never seen anyone kiss the cross before, at all.  She’s never been to Good Friday services, and even if she had, she wouldn’t remember.  Where, then, does something like this come from?  I’m not complaining, don’t get me wrong.