April is Over
This is a pitfall of living life in constant regard of the calendar. At the begining of the month I take a look at the calendar: Palm Sunday, Easter, retreat week-end, visit to my sister. There. The month was as good as over.

It has been decades since my father chastised me for crossing off each day on the calendar. In his opinion - and I think he was right - it was like wishing my life away, waiting for Christmas, summer vacation, whatever. So I stopped doing that. But I catch myself looking at the calendar and plotting things out with a precision that causes me to see chunks of time as over before they have begun.

Despite all the kvetching I do, I really love working for the Church. It may be a headache and it sometimes is a bore, but I think could be much more miserable. Steel mill, retail. Lots of worse jobs. But the first two week-ends of April were given over (more than I care to admit) to peculiar job concerns. Concerns plus a certain degree of terror that would grab me while in the pew and make me nauseated with fear that I had somehow screwed something up. I have noticed that I often will hold my breath during Mass, until I am sure that the danger of one of my typos or outright errors has passed. This is not possible during the reading of Mark 14:1 through 15:47. Really.

And our Shakespeare study has hit an all time low. Lower than usual student enthusiasm. And decidedly unique content.

Coupled with being gone two week-ends in a row, this all makes me feel like a sub-par mother/teacher. Not that the trips away were without their particular merits. I needed that silent retreat in the worst way. (Yes, I did skip out on a few of the talks...I started to feel a bit brow-beaten by the exhortations against war mongering, unfair labor practices and racism. I practice none of them - except for the occasional use of the term "Chinese Fire Drill" - and was waiting for ill placed caution against patronizing WalMart that would cause me to break my silence in a most unpleasant way. But there was plenty of time for prayer. And I managed to read a book without interruption.) And my sister's birthday is significant. My only sister. And we're orphans by this age.

So there it went. I looked ahead at the calendar one day and before you could say
exapostilarion the whole thing was over.