We're on Church Street, and it's Good Friday. In my book, most Fridays are pretty darn good. As a matter of fact, I'm hard pressed to recall any Friday as a bad day. Growing up in the Catholic Church, I was always intrigued by the sacred events of this weekend. The re-creating of the mystical events surrounding Easter was something that always got my attention. I knelt in awe at the decorated altar and was enraptured by the pomp and circumstances of the moment. Today, I'm many miles away, and there are those days where I sit and ponder how I got so lost.