Monday, December 21, 2009

MONDAY DIARY: IF ONLY SATURDAYS WERE CELEBATE

One if by land! Two if by sea!

Christmas is coming! Christmas is coming!

But we have no fear here at St. Sebastian. No sir! We designed our Christmas preparations with one full day to use as catch up in case of emergencies. And good thing too because by last Saturday we were sufficiently behind schedule to warrant wishing there was an extra day in the week. And we had it and her name was Saturday. Oh, beautiful Saturday, your arms promised comfort and your ruby lips whispered poems of quiet, lazy hours of writing bulleting articles, homilies, and other Christmas activities that require the cleverness of baking pies – time and space to do as you need.

Oh, but Saturday, you were a fickled mistress. Unfaithful were you to your promises. For during the Mass of your early hours the electricity went out. It was only for a moment. An instant really. Thanks to the hawks that have kept the critter population down to only the most intelligent of the tiny beasts, the others who used to regularly crawl into the transformers and turning themselves into an instant cooked dinner long ago serving as hawk food, save one. There was a tiny, solitary bird that slipped through your radar and cooked his own goose.

One comes to realize how truly fragile our way of life is when experiencing just one instant without the life line of electricity. The heat went out and part of the boiler system fried. The internet went down meaning that not only could we not go on line, we could not use the copiers, work on the bulletin, or send messages to each other. Then the alarms! Oh! The alarms! In every building! No sooner was the code punched in than because the system was damaged they would go off again and the company would call again and say, “Do we need to send someone over there?”

Who could think with alarms going off? Pillows were placed over the screaming, angry sirens with boards holding them in place in an effort to teach it only to speak with inside voices.

Oh Saturday, you filled your life with other men than me! How could you be so cruel? Boiler repair men, the computer repair man, the electricians, the alarm company. How they gathered at your skirts and danced with you all day long while I played host to your infidelities.

Today at Mass I see remembrances of you as we count the light bulbs blown out by your great burst of energy. Good bye Saturday for ever. No one could say your were not exciting. But you need to go. If you don’t, I will regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of my life.

We will always have Paris.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

Father, this post is one of your very best in regard to entertainment. Sometimes, all one can do is laugh. "Humor is the cushion on the shoulder that God provides in order to help us carry our crosses," a retreat master once said.

Adoro said...

ROFL! Hell hath no humor like a Father scorned!

MJ said...

Seems like your anger and frustration turned into a great post!!! ROFL!!!

Fr. Larry said...

I love the reference to "Casablanca"!

Sharon said...

Brilliant, simply brilliant!

Anon, I am going to pinch your wise retreat master's saying.

Was the retreat master Irish? That is the way the Irish see troubles - at least in my family! lol

Adrian said...

Great Religion Magazine collection for all Christian brothers and sisters. Wish you a Merry Christmas and May this festival bring abundant joy and happiness in your life!

Fr. V said...

Fr. Larry - looked at your bio and see why you like Casablanca. Good taste have you.

Jim said...

maybe we'll go to Rome instead -
Casablanca and Paris seem over-used.

great piece - a little levity works wonders for sore spots