Alas, the cold I’ve been fighting throughout the triduum has not abated and I woke this morning still feeling icky. I have a bit of a sniffle and my lungs feel somewhat scratchy. My voice, which on its best days has a lovely shimmer today has, shall we say, a different sort of patina.
But you can’t call out sick from singing Easter Sunday, besides, I’m not in such rough shape I couldn’t get through three measly masses! Still I’m pretty annoyed, because singing is not much fun for me today and there’s not much I can so about it.
I do not like things being out of my control, and they are today.
I was starting to feel sorry for myself during the first liturgy when I realized that my blessings, too, are out of my control. That I was raised in a community that taught me how to pray. That my family is loving. That I can sing a high C – even when I’m sniffling. That Christ rose, defying all plans and expectations, proving forever that all will be well and we can let God take the wheel. Maybe it’s better that things are out of my control.