April 24, 2011

Bach on the CD, gentle Easter evening. Came home after Easter Vigil last night ill. Spent the time from 1 to 3 AM throwing up, for the most part. My throat was raw from that, but it did manage to get through the services in reasonable voice. Headache, exhaustion, stomach titanically upset– wondering if eating one (albeit large) piece of bread was the cause of all that. Got home from church and slept until 6 PM, until moments ago.

Putting the finishing touches on the rearrangement of my house. Though there is more storage area by the addition of a large bookcase, and the severe culling of another, there seems still not to be enough space to put back in everything I took out.

SB facebooks that he will be directing at the Hanger Theater in Ithaca all summer. That means no start, again, on Lincoln. I know in my heart that this is a dead issue, that it will never happen, but there is so much good that would come out of its happening and none whatever out of its not that I cling tenaciously to brutal hope. Life is full of circumstances where all the good lies on one side, and yet you know at some point that the other side will, pointlessly, maliciously, prevail. I wonder why they bothered. I wonder why I did. I trust God’s not confused about my disgust with him.

In the midst of the banging, clattering Easter services I thought this: what if we led everyone out just before sunrise to a quiet forest, and had them face east. Then, as the sun rose, we went to each individual, each group and said, in a quiet voice–for the Magnitude needs no amplification-- salvation is created. What if we did that? Although I must say the story of Mary at the tomb moves me, and I sat in my chair each time and wept. Little FK in the children’s choir saw me once, and a tear rolled down her cheek. I wonder if she thought I was sad? Maybe I was, and because it was Easter morning, confused it with something else.

Dusty pink buds on the antique rose.