Saturday night was nearly sleepless with pain. Simple pain, the aftermath of a root canal, nothing of any spiritual significance. I rolled and tossed and finally took a wallop of ibuprofen around 3 am, and slept.
Rosemarie had returned from her hospital stay on Thursday; we had together been present for the washing of feet, we had seen the altar and sanctuary stripped at Maundy Thursday service, together we had listened to the Good Friday crucifixion narrative, together acclaimed the Light of Christ at the Great Vigil on Saturday evening.
The root canal had been on Saturday morning, performed by a dentist I had no prior experience with. From the moment the novocaine wore off, something was wrong; the tooth was as sensitive as before, and the jaw muscle was stiff and sore. I knew I wouldn't be able to sing; I began to doubt that I would even be able to attend the Easter service.
Rosemarie wanted very badly to attend. She had risen before me, on Sunday morning, and when I awoke it was to the sound of organ and brass summoning me to be alive again. So at 7am I sat at the kitchen table, weeping for joy of the music, of the organ and brass summoning us all to whatever is prepared for us in life. I was forgiven even for my pain, for wishing my dentist evil, for tossing sleepless the whole night.
So we left for service. I arrived just as the morning choir rehearsal was under way; kept some restraint as we ran through the hymns and the seating for the brass quintet that was joining us in the service, and then we rehearsed the last chorus (or two, depending on how one counts them) of Handel's Messiah: “Worthy is the Lamb” and “Amen”. Tooth and all, I sang.
After all the exultation of the service, the coffee hour was Rosemarie's welcome back into the little tribe that is our parish. She was entirely in her element – coffee socials have never been my strong suit, but Easter is an exception to many conventional truths. Rosemarie hugged, and chatted, and gossiped, and celebrated resurrection with everyone around us.
And that afternoon, at our daughter Kate's for Easter dinner, we celebrated once again, with Bernie and Bev and Pherooz and Leroy and Gabriel and Finlay and Kate and Jason. The meal was Jason's contribution entirely, ham and cheeses and little rolls and potatoes and asparagus and some things I never did learn the name of.
1:52:46 PM 
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