Holy Week, Hole-y Week

Holy Week.

This week, for Catholics and some Protestant denominations, our Facebook newsfeeds might be filled memes and messages about Holy Week, the most solemn and celebrated time of year for Christians. It starts with Palm Sunday, when we recall Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem. Monday through Wednesday consist of preparations and rehearsals for Thursday through Sunday's events. In my family, depending on the calendar, Holy Week sometimes also contains an enormous traditional Passover dinner. The long one. And everything is kosher. Because Holy Week just isn't busy enough.

The Holy Week "Triduum," three days of prayer and preparation, begins on Holy Thursday; we go to Mass and recall Christ's Last Supper.

On Good Friday we attend the Stations of the Cross in the afternoon. Our kids participate in a "living stations" event, where they re-enact the stations in live vignettes.

(these are not my kids)

Later that day, we also attend a solemn church service commemorating the Passion and crucifixion of Christ in the evening.

Then, Holy Saturday is....what, universal egg coloring day?

Well, it kind of is.

There isn't really anything "specific" for Holy Saturday. We try to get some of the cousins together to color and have a few cute traditions with the eggs. There's a lot of boiling and dye prep, and then the kids are all done in 18 seconds. (My husband is usually the last one at the table, perfecting his Star Wars egg or whatever.) Later we make sure we have all our last minute goodies for baskets, brunch, and Easter outfits. And then we run to Target to buy tights or nylons because we forgot them AGAIN.

Sometimes people go the Easter Vigil on Saturday night, which is a looooong but very beautiful Mass. The Vigil is a special time for those who are completing their official initiation sacraments to join the Catholic Church, and it's an especially joyous thing to witness. My two daughters and I are all part of the music ministry at our church, and we often sing at several Masses or other services during Holy Week.

So, with all this attention drawn to a few days in the year, every year, you'd think I might actually avoid scheduling conflicting major events for just these few days, right?

Uh, nope! Many of our traditions are flying the coop this year, because my daughter is actually having knee surgery on Good Friday, and that sort of blows some holes in the plans.

(Nudge nudge, get it? HOLE-y week??)
ba dum dum

So, Hole-y Week.

I have spent most of the last couple of weeks coordinating with doctors, insurance people, physical therapists, pre-op nurses, surgery schedulers, and more insurance people, all because I didn't really look at a calendar.

Almost two months ago, Anna dislocated her knee. We've used the word "dislocated" so often since then, that when my 4-year old was playing with his doctor kit a couple of days ago, his patient's complaint was that he had "a cold, a fever, and a dislocated back." He said it correctly.

Anyhoo, several consultations and MRI's later, it was decided that she needed surgery to repair the damage. I was to wait for the surgery scheduler to call and inform me when the doctor's first available surgical appointment was. We were hoping it would have been done during Spring Break, but that week was fast approaching, and I still hadn't gotten "the call." By the time we finally got a call for an opening, we just wanted the earliest slot possible.

ring ring
"We have Friday, April 3."
"That's the earliest you have?"
"Yes. I can put you on a cancellation list to see if an earlier slot opens up, but most likely, you're looking at April 3."
"We'll take it."
click

It took a few days for the "oh, wait...Is April 3 Good Friday?"
Why yes. yes, it is.

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.................

so then, "oh, wait..." became "Oh well!"

I gave very little thought to re-scheduling. Instead, we're just taking a break from the normal levels of busy for this time of year.

Most years, I sing in our church choir for several services between Thursday and Sunday. Sometimes one or both of the girls sing as well. My two middle children attend a youth group at a different parish, and they have their live stations with their peers there. I usually take the other two kids and go watch that. There's often a lot to juggle between Thursday and Sunday. And Passover starts on Good Friday this year, too.

While I believe service is critical to developing our faith, we can lose a little of the beauty of the season when we are so caught up in each day's logistics. This year, that's just not an issue. We're going to do what we can, and not worry about being at everything. Anna and her dad and I will spend Friday in the hospital. Our two middle kids will still be in their live stations, but without their parents watching in the congregation. We're fortunate to have a lot of family around us, and we have various plans for relatives to watch our three other kids, take them to their events, and color eggs with them. On Saturday night, instead of Friday, we'll try (maybe) to squeeze in a super-shortened 30-minute version of the Passover Seder (the one we never do). The soup will come from a boxed mix. (An audible gasp would come from my mom just now. She'll understand, maybe, this year.) On Sunday, Easter baskets will be simpler, outfits will be more casual, and I don't really care about nylons or tights. I didn't decorate the house much, I don't have cute Easter nails or hair or a new dress. And fortunately, it will still be Easter.

If I had remembered that April 3 was Good Friday, would I still have scheduled her surgery? Probably not. But I did, and now I'm grateful it turned out this way. It might be a little silly to extrapolate a bunch of super deep meaning on the timing of this little outpatient surgery. I just wanted my kid to feel better as soon as possible, you know? Anna's a little nervous for Friday, but she'll be so happy to be done with it. She knows she'll be on the road to restoration after Friday, and we will very literally have quite a happy Easter this year.

Fortunately, this is true whether I wear nylons or not. Whew.