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.