Good Friday
This day is so difficult.
There were around 40 of us at the first Walk of Witness. A good number, really. Margie read from Luke—Jesus promising the kingdom to the penitent thief. She read it beautifully.

I read later, at the final station: Luke 23:50–56. Joseph of Arimathea and the women from Galilee.

That moment between Joseph and Pilate—it’s never quite sat comfortably. That request for Jesus’ body. The unspoken weight of it. The risk, the reverence. The cost of doing what was right.
About 25 people came to the second Walk of Witness, followed by a very solemn service at St Andrew’s in Dent. Quiet, reflective, no unnecessary words.
I walked with others...