Easter

I love Easter: jellybeans, lilies, egg hunts, little boys in seersucker blazers, and exhilarating hallelujahs. My Church does a bang up job of Easter. It doesn’t hurt that its stained glass beauty is breathtaking when the sun shines through, or that the choir is good enough to make the staunchest atheist believe, for at least a moment, that even if God doesn’t exist, Angels do. And then there’s Dorsey, Ivy League Smartypants Dorsey, our Faithful Rector. On any given Sunday, he might not get you to God, but he’ll get a good chuckle or cry out of you… and there you are cozied up with Holy Spirit unwittingly. I’ve missed most of Lent due to my fear of good Christian germs. But on Sunday, I’m going to be there to hear my spiritual leader give me the Good News in person. My Easter wish for all of you is that you have something like this, too… a place of beauty and light that reminds you that there are Good Things, and that those things live in that moment and space when we shake hands and offer Peace.

Don’t I sound like Zealot Sister? Obviously, my mood has turned. Honestly, I was back to my sunny side up self as soon as I got all of that off my chest and computer. But it might have been my most selfish moment. I temporarily forgot that there are really wonderful people out there who need to know this isn’t horrifying. And in the day to day, it’s not. Cancer slays me in the wee hours, during a quick glance in the mirror, with an honest question from a little boy. The rest of the time, I’m happily mocking it. I still miss things like tasting food and having hair, but I’m good. Today I can say without any anger at all that I’m thrilled there’s just one more round to go.

A-Ma has returned to spell my own mother for a bit. She arrived via Fung Wah with all sorts of gifts and news. One (long) story involved a trip to a gallery with a friend. A-Ma is savvy with NYC public transportation and uses cabs as sparingly as she does the postal service, or forks. However, her friend was nervous the entire journey to The Village. “How do you know it’s the right way? You should call someone! There won’t be time to eat…” and so on. A-Ma was giggling as she was telling this story, poking fun at the silliness of her friend. “Ah, these people… they don’t know that God is with us. Why worry?” Not only do I have Dorsey, I can also count A-Ma as a bit of a spiritual guide.

So Happy Easter (and Passover, too) to my dear friends, my faithful readers who did your funny best to bolster my flagging spirits. Because this site is PG-censored, I could never share all of the fantastic things that came via text and email… scathing and scatological Cancer insults in defense of poor me. You are a randy bunch of sailor-mouthed, porn-peddling, anti-Cancer warriors. I feel like the kid on the playground with the biggest, coolest friends. Cancer Bully can go pick on someone else. And a whole gaggle of us will be at the 9am mass at the Redeemer on Sunday. See you there.

 

My favorite picture of the boys in their Easter Sunday best

 

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