My head is swirling with too much to say. I should sit down with paper and pencil and try to make sense of it, but I don’t want to. This isn’t a school assignment. I can ramble here if I want to. You can read if you want to.
Spring break! At least for the big kids. They have no school this week. Since it’s Holy Week, traveling isn’t an option (it was never an option this year, but I tell myself it’s the school district’s fault), so it’s really about wearing your pajamas as much as possible and possibly seeing if you can completely dry out your eyeballs by forgetting to blink while playing hours of video games. Don’t judge me. They have amazing hand-eye coordination. They’ll probably be fighter jet pilots someday.
Monday we all vegged as much as possible. I finished my class Sunday night and it just felt good to not yell at anybody to practice piano, do you homework, clean your room, get dressed, brush your teeth, let’s go, let’s go, let’s GO! Yesterday everyone had to clean their room. It went better than it has in the history of room cleaning at the Bird House, anyway. I only had to raise my voice a few times, point out a few problem spots, and it got done before mid afternoon. A miracle, really. And nobody cried. THAT is the miracle! I have the most dramatic children and I have no idea whatsoever where they get that! *you can picture me turning away with my eyes closed and the back of my wrist pressed to my forehead now*
Today we get busy again. Not, oh dear we’re sooooo busy kind of busy. Just doing stuff. The Middle Bird is going with a friend to a fun gymnastics facility for an open gym. I’m keeping the friend’s little sister so the friend’s mom can watch Middle Bird and the friend, as they seem to get quite silly together sometimes. They’ll have fun! Tonight is choir practice and I guess I better figure out how to feed the troops before I take off.
Tomorrow is Middle Bird’s EIGHTH birthday! I don’t know how that happened. It’s going so much faster all the time. I’ll save the “isn’t he the neatest kid ever” post for tomorrow, but he is just about the neatest kid ever. Just sayin’. We’ll be having another family over tomorrow afternoon to play. They have three kids, too, and the ages fall in between ours, so it works out well. And the mom and I might get to have actual conversation if we ignore the chaos. Well, we’ll see. And of course it will be Maundy Thursday, so I’ll have church in the evening.
Friday is Good Friday. Perhaps my favorite service of the year. It’s like a sore tooth you can’t stop poking with your tongue. Morbid, I know. But you can’t have the joy of Easter morning without the pain of Friday’s crucifixion. Seems like there was a movement in the late 80s and 90s to make Good Friday services more meaningful and frankly more morbid. I remember attending a service one year where each member of the congregation went forward, picked up a hammer and struck the massive nails on a close-to-lifesized cross. It was powerful. It was amazing. It made me dwell, wallow even, on the fact that Jesus died for ME, personally. I felt the weight of the responsibility on my shoulders as I lifted the heavy hammer and guided it’s weight down to the huge nail. I felt it in the ringing in my ears as each of us banged that nail. I felt it in my chest with each blow. It stayed with me through the weekend, too. I think the power of that service actually intensified the joy of Easter morning. I greeted my family and fellow church members with “He has RISEN!” and “He has RISEN, indeed!” over and over like so many other Easter mornings, but that year it really seemed like a cry of relief. Like every other year, I had known it was coming, that He had died but would rise, but THAT year it felt more of a relief. A tiny bit closer to what the disciples must have felt.
So, Good Friday service will be meaningful, I’m sure, but I’ve never attended another service where we struck the nails. I’d like to do that again someday. Guess I probably ought to sign up for some committee or other, huh? Yeah, because I need some more commitments. 🙂