letters and lattes

A reflection for Holy Week

Last year, I left Saturday Vigil, Easter Mass, with a bottle of Holy Water in my pocket. My friends' darling children gathered it up for me, passing it eagerly, their tender faces alive with Easter joy. I placed it in my pocket for safekeeping. Feeling far better for having it close to my person, rather than shoved into my tiny purse.
 
When I returned home I retrieved the bottle and realized some of its goodness had been left behind. 

My pocket was a little damp, slightly blessed.

The following morning I watched my own children, gleefully chasing a young man masquerading as the Easter bunny. The sun blazed down upon us and as the sweat glistened my lip, I worried for that young man in that very thick fur. The children’s eyes grew greedily as they hunted for his mislaid treasures. My son soon returned, hands full with his bounty. He did not allow something as trivial as foil to foil his spoils, he simply sucked down the melted goo and peeled the wrapper from his teeth when he was finished. I grabbed the remaining melting mass from his hands, placing them in my pocket “for later” - promising a swift return once cooled and solidified again. 

When I returned home, I removed the mass and realised some of their insides had been left behind. 

My pocket was a little sticky, slightly messed.

And so in repeating my outfit, I had one pocket blessed and one a mess. I hoped the wash would sort it out, removing the latter and increasing the former. 

May this be the trick this Easter - a little more blessed, a little less mess.