Christ is Risen!


This past weekend was Pascha, and what an eventful weekend it was.

John and Lila arrived on late Wednesday evening from Washington D.C. I had been too exhausted during the week to make it to any of the Bridegroom Matins services.  Elizabeth updated you on most of the happenings in our home, but she left out one important one:

I have only been to a Pascha service twice, and both times it was to start at around 10:30 Saturday night and end around 2:00 the next morning, followed by a “break-fast” at a nearby restaurant.  The plan was for Lila and John to organize a small paschal feast at our place for the following afternoon.

After I prepared the deviled eggs Saturday evening for the feast, John was over to cook a salmon frittata, using all the extra eggs left over from painting Ukranian eggs.  When John and I lived together I bought a decent set of knives.


It is usually my practice to wash and dry them separately, and I learned to sharpen the knives before and after each usage, though I usually only sharpen them before.

Well, John must have been having a heck of a time cutting the leeks

because I heard him say, “Oh.”  I could see him looking at his finger, having stopped chopping.  Having had this experience myself, I went to the closet before asking and came back with the band-aids.  Well, he wasn’t too interested in the band-aids.  He asked, instead, for some paper towels, and those became red very quickly.

Having nearly chopped off the tip of his left index, he realized immediately that he needed to go to the hospital, but he took his time deciding it.  Once there, we made communication with Lila and it was decided that I would take her to church and come back for John should he be seen (hours had passed in the waiting room).  Also while in the waiting room, I called my dad, who mostly cut off the tip of his middle finger once, to learn of his experience.  He had sage advice:

Dad: Here’s what you do.  Which hand did he hurt?
Me: His left.
Dad: Ok, grab his right hand with your right hand.  Then, take your left hand, and smack him upside the head and say, “What’d you do that for?”

After those two hours in the waiting room, I left to give Lila a ride up for the service, and just after I left John was taken to a triage room.  As soon as I dropped her off I headed back to receive him, but he wasn’t released until 12:00 or 12:30.


John and I then made it to the last hour or so of the service, which was basically the eucharistic portion.  He was able to hear his favorite hymn, and we did make it to the “break-fast,” where good times were had by many over pizza, scrambled eggs, wine, smoked turkey, sausage, and vodka.  Unfortunately, I avoided the wine and vodka due to my thin blood and driving responsibilities.

We slept a good deal the next day and had that feast (Claire, unbeckoned, had mysteriously  come by to finish the frittata).  Then John and Lila went off to greener pastures.

It was an unfortunate experience in their trip to Chicago for Pascha, but it provided a poignant backdrop to celebrate the resurrection and the life in the age to come.



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