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Before explaining why I was standing outside with 200 people in a pair of pajamas labeled “Trophy Wife,” it probably would be a good idea to explain why I own such a pair of pajamas in the first place.

The coming week is a big one for me. I’ll be flying to Chicago tomorrow to meet with leaders serving in Claretian-sponsored ministries and to shoot some video with Liturgy Training Publications on women who helped shaped the Liturgical Movement that led up to Vatican II. I’ll then be going to Washington, DC to talk with a group of pastors from the National Association of Evangelicals followed by a gathering of executive directors of Catholic ministry organizations.

I don’t remember much about my high school English literature classes. Not that I didn’t have great teachers. I did. It’s just that it was forty years ago now. I have vague memories of trying to read Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.

I want to thank all of you who wrote to me after I posted my Good Friday thoughts. It was by the far the largest number of responses I’ve ever received to a posting. I want you to know that it does not make me happy to know that you also feel speechless before our current state of affairs in the U.S. I was rather hoping you would have the words that I find myself lacking! But, at the same time, I appreciate knowing I’m not the only one feeling robbed of language to engage constructively at present.

This Good Friday--Atlanta Friday traffic being Atlanta Friday traffic—I participated in services at another parish than I usually attend. Gosh, we gave it a good effort as a diverse community and truly it was beautiful in many ways. A struggle in others. For better or worse, the presider’s detailed and substantive homily on St. Anselm’s 11th century theology of atonement gave me more time than one might usually anticipate to close my eyes and meditate on what it would have been like to be standing as one of the women at the foot of the cross today. What would the women be talking about?

I’m writing to you today from Chicago, which is not where I expected to be right now. I was supposed to be just outside D.C. today looking at cherry blossoms and gathering with a group of catechists for a Lenten day of reflection. Instead, I am looking at a magnolia tree. Similar color. Also beautiful. But an indication that Spring is not as far along here as in the South.

I had the most amazing conversation last week with a two-year-old named Louise, the granddaughter of a good friend of mine. Louise had a remarkable vocabulary for a two-year-old.

“Where do you live?” she asked.

I let her know I had a house in Atlanta.

“Do you have everything you need at your house?” she asked.

I had to pause there and think for a moment. We are a little short on toilet paper and yogurt sometimes, but eventually I had to admit, “Yes, Louise, I have everything that I need.”

She persisted, “Do you have everything that you need?”

It began with a cup of tea on Ash Wednesday. I had just filled it when my Lyft arrived early for the airport.

“I am so sorry,” I texted my husband. “My Lenten practice this year was going to be to try to keep the house more tidy, but when you get home you’ll find I left a full tea mug in the middle of the living room coffee table.” [Short background note: My husband does most of the cleaning and when I leave things around it irritates him, though he doesn’t complain… much]

This past Sunday, for the first time in a long time, I attempted to introduce a group of 3-to-6-year-old children to the parable of the leaven (Matthew 13: 33). I say “attempted” because it did not go particularly well. Or, I suppose, it went about as well as you can expect it to go when three measures of flour, one teaspoon of yeast, a half-cup of water, and ten pre-school boys are involved. Much of the conversation went something like this:

Me reading: “The Kingdom of God is like yeast that a woman took and mixed with…”

Boy 1: “Can we eat the dough?”

Me: “No.”

The last two weeks have been a warm whirlwind of activity. Whirlwind because they were booked solid with work projects. Warm because they were spent in South Florida and Hawaii.