Holy week

Let me tell you about this holy week. The weekend before, I took 10 of my students to the Destination Imagination tournament. It was a culmination of an after-school program I have been running since the beginning of the year; the culmination of tons of hard work the kids had done, mostly packed into the week before. It was fun and crazy and tiring. Coming off that high, exhausted, holy week started.

Monday, St. Patrick’s day, I didn’t go to work. I had a drink with some friends and recuperated.

Tuesday, I went to work, felt deserted by my teammates.

Wednesday, I snapped at one of my favorite teammates, and then stalked around school all day annoyed at my boss. After school we had a pointless meeting that I just wanted to throw up my hand and walk out of.

Thursday, one of my teachers, who I really respect, told me I didn’t look good and was anything wrong? Every night that week I went home exasperated, annoyed, and angry. I ate some cruddy food for dinner and feel asleep.

Friday, Good Friday, the day to contemplate Jesus’ death, we had a bunch of workshops about “Life after Americorp”. I sat through hours of people telling me things I already knew. On that note, I went home and feel asleep. I savored the thought of going to the Easter Vigil at 2:00 in the morning. It is a tradition my mom and I participated in at home every year. It always feels good to be awake when no one else is, praying like the hard-core person I think I am.

But it never works to plan to be holy for just one hour. My alarm didn’t go off. I woke up at 5:30 in the morning, mad at myself, mad at the world for taking away my chance to feel holy.

I went for a walk to watch the sunrise. Standing by the river I tried to really feel all that I was feeling. I admitted that I was mad at myself. I admitted that I was frustrated with my job. But none of that gave me that holy feeling I was looking for. Then the sun came up. And the trees across the river completely blocked the view.

Holy Saturday (Dead Saturday) I worked on forgiving myself for everything that had gone wrong the previous week. I took a three hour nap in the comfy chair. I read a couple chapters in Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott. I was feeling a little better by the time I went to bed.

Easter Sunday dawned and I woke up with a smile on my face. I made coffee cake, went to church, then cooked and ate dinner with a bunch of friends…including the team mate I had snapped at this week. I’m not saying it was a total transformation, but somehow things look better this side of the resurrection.