On the afternoon of Wednesday in Holy Week, I felt a little under the weather. On Maundy Thursday, I woke up barely able to breathe. Yukky congestion, cough, shortness of breath, all that stuff. I self-medicated, so that I was able to make it into the office around 2pm, and then served as crucifer and LEM at our Maundy Thursday service. [I figured it was just my usual springtime allergy plague. But, just to be sure, I did Purell myself, did not drink from the chalice, etc.] I hoped to have some deep thoughts and reflections to offer on that service. But all I managed was to survive it.
I came home Thursday night, fell into bed. And that’s where I stayed through the Triduum. Dang it!
I wanted to be at all the services. But no. From Thursday evening 'til Sunday morning, my journey was restricted to the bed, the sofa, and the kitchen.
This Easter morning, when I made it all the way to the porch, I felt my own personal “alleluia.” I had energy and vigor to make it to church … where I served as crucifer for our main Easter service. (Yes, I was well enough to do it without endangering the public health.)
I am seriously bummed. I count on observing the Triduum with the church and with my parish community. Saying the services here alone (as I did) was a miserable substitute.
Fortunately … as the Cubs (and others) say: There’s always next year. Next year to have a better Lent, share a better Triduum.
P.S.: Some of you will understand how sick I was when I say this: I didn’t even have the energy to log onto e-mail or the Web from Thursday until this evening. I can’t remember when I last stayed offline that long. … But I think I’m back now.