Holy Week 2012

I had a plan for Holy Week: We would do no formal school because we'd be too busy: we would do plenty of sweet spiritual reading and craft projects to help teach preschoolers about the Passion of Our Lord. There would be cooking and baking, service work for the parish, and cleaning the house so it would be sparkling for Easter. We would attend many of the special liturgical events at our parish. It would be a very busy and spiritually fruitful week.

God had a different plan! Chris was out of town on business and, once again, sickness put a halt to many of my intentions. At times my heart felt like that of a little child, me stomping my feet at God that I wanted to do "holy" my way, not His!

Above, waiting at the radiologist's office for the chest x ray that confirmed the diagnosis of Mary's pneumonia, seven days in to her persistent fever of 104. Antibiotics followed (Mary's first ever?).

Beginning to track how many times John vomited before I dragged him, limp and pale, into the doctor's office (along with the other two kids) in order to obtain a prescription of that nearly miraculous drug Zofran, which halted the gastrointestinal illness in its tracks.

Margaret, sporting an angry blue line of a bruise on her forehead where she tripped and hit a kitchen cupboard right on the goose egg that had resulted from tripping outside and hitting the brick steps the day before. Later in the week, she caught Mary's respiratory illness and became the typically grumpy, snotty baby who wakes a zillion times per night that one would expect.

John, asleep with sickness fatigue, after a visit to the doctor's office and then hospital radiology department for a chest x ray that diagnosed bronchitis (not pneumonia!) after the respiratory illness he caught from Mary caused him to become feverish and develop a persistent, wracking wet cough. Antibiotics followed (his second ever?).

I found myself in tears, overwhelmed at these nearly unremitting illnesses (thank God they're all minor in the grand scheme of things), Chris gone most of the week on business yet again (thank God for his job during these economic times). I wanted to have a meaningful Holy Week, worthy of a good Catholic according to my vision: like attending the Mass of the Last Supper, Stations of the Cross, and Tenebrae with well-behaved, sweet children who would say precious things about Jesus. Making it to Confession. Being orderly, having a plan.

Instead, God let me learn (yet some more) about how holiness is achieved through our daily duties associated with our vocations (not associated with the vocations of others, such as a wife-and-mother trying to pray uninterrupted like a contemplative nun). There would be nothing holy about my doing special Easter crafts with the children or taking us to the annual Chrism Mass if I'm ignoring that my sick kids need to recuperate or there are mountains of "sick laundry" to wash. God gave me children to care for, especially when Chris is out "slaying dragons" to support us (via his job), and this week my salvation had to be worked out with fear and trembling (Phil. 2:12) through things like taking temperatures, soothing a feverish child, changing diapers, waking up in the night, cleaning up vomit, encouraging sips of water, serving bland food, reading stories aloud, giving baths, showing cartoons, and keeping us cheerful during numerous visits to the doctor (thank God for such easy access to excellent health care).

This is not what I envisioned for Holy Week and it's not what I wanted (for me or the kids). But God sure knows what would be more salutary for my soul. I don't know about you, but I'd rather grow my virtue (as we're all called to do) through actions that are neat, clean, that I can control, not things that take me by surprise, are unpleasant and yucky. Someone gave me a beautiful meditation for this latest illness in particular: that Our Blessed Mother had her hopes and plans dashed during what was for her the Passover Week, so she understands all about my (infinitely smaller) dashed hopes and plans for my Holy Week.

One bright side to our week was that I got to feel loved by other members of the Body of Christ. Usually we want to be the ones to serve others (because it feels better to be in control, useful, and appreciated), but somebody has got to be in need and this week it was me: In my most distress, when Chris was still out of town, I had three different friends (married, busy, with families of their own to care for) rush to my aid in pragmatic ways, like bringing medicine, food, and even flowers, and offering to babysit. What a blessing to me, truly!