Friday, April 22, 2011

What I didn't say to the barista

At our local coffee house, the barista asked, "So is your son coming home for Easter?" (Well, not exactly. He's a church musician at a huge, busy parish -- there's a special reward in heaven for church musicians -- and he's working nonstop. We're all working, all weekend.)

"And what are you doing for Easter dinner?" she continued. (Are you kidding? We're all in different cities, and by the time two of us get back home, we'll be pretty wrecked. But when we're that tired, we can be awfully silly. That sounds good right now.)

I'll be grateful when we've gotten through the weekend, praying that we'll give those we serve a glimpse of the great mystery. In the end, the liturgy and the music pull us through, and even in our human mistakes and imperfections, the Christ-light shines.


Blogger Castanea_d said...

I've had problems throughout my adult life with family who fail to understand why I/we can't travel hundreds of miles to be with them "for Christmas/Easter." Some of them seem to take our absence from important family gatherings as an insult.

I, too, will be grateful when we've gotten through the weekend. We had a quiet little Holy Saturday liturgy this morning (attendance: 5): Rite One Matins, the Great Litany, and the Holy Saturday proper liturgy (BCP p. 283). That, by the grace of the Holy Ghost, was highly beneficial to me, and I think to the others, all of us very busy with church work this weekend.

And as we have discussed, I am looking forward to C. and S. playing the Bach piece tonight with a longing akin to a thirsty traveller in the desert. "My soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you, as in a barren and dry land where there is no water. Therefore have I gazed upon you in your holy place...."

8:03 AM  

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