April 8, 2006
Sunrise straight from the east, willows are green and the pasture is giving way from the silvers and tans of winter to very bright new color coming up from beneath. This Saturday is filled with memories of years of final preparations for Holy Week. Large buckets would be standing in the upright freezer at St. John School holding Sunday morning’s supply of palms as they awaited their trip into church in the hands of children on the next day, Palm Sunday. Music rehearsals would sound with “Hallelujahs!” while the solemn and quiet sounds of Lent continued in the worship events.
Today’s activity will center on a small spot on my abdomen since the Neupogen shots must continue, and my upper arms have gone into revolt. From the elbow upward, the tissue has been accepting countless injections of foreign material, and asked to absorb and send it forth into the rest of the body. At first the soft underarm flesh seemed happy to oblige, but as time has gone on, the bruises remain, the outer skin has begun to flake away in circles, and the injections themselves cause a teeth jarring ache to spread out and away. It seems the moment I made the decision that the belly would have to take its turn, it began to itch and inform that it was not delighted. I am reluctant to use the upper thighs because the first attempt left me in discomfort for an entire week after as I went walking.
Always, there are far worse lives to contemplate. This morning’s paper displays the face of a 73 year old woman who is a survivor of the Kashmiri earthquake. She has a tent in which to make her bed, and her eyes are so fierce and full of pain they refuse to be forgotten. The incredible distance between her day and mine cannot be measured. Perhaps she would welcome death in order to end her ordeal of life on earth. I do not know, but hopefully, when her death comes, a paradise awaits her.
I, on the other hand, have all possible resources to make this day sweet and fine, and life touches me inwardly and outwardly in a most acceptable fashion; no matter where I look, I have a future. Never is this more powerfully apparent then in Holy Week and Easter. This time comes with its retelling of the familiar story of Christ’s inexorable journey toward sacrificial death and wondrous return to life. These above all teachings of the Christian faith bring forgiveness, peace and empowerment. Today I will tell my belly to do its best and I will fill my head with sounds of countless hymns and spiritual songs taught and played and sung in the past to remember and celebrate this holiest of weeks. Today I will not cry.