On the evening of Good Friday five years ago I was baptized in St. John’s Episcopal Church in New Haven. On the morning of Good Friday one year ago Katherine was born.
I know that both of these events have calendar dates (Katherine’s birthday isn’t until the 10th, next Saturday), but I am very glad that they’re also attached to other rhythms in my life. As I saw the first bulbs appearing a week or two ago I was reminded, daily, of the difference between last spring and this. And when we go to church on Sunday I will not be looking at the little ponytail sitting in the row in front of me, wondering whether I’d be holding pigtails or boy-mop, and who that little person would be underneath that hair–or, at least, that’s what I thought I’d be doing last year, before that Easter arrived, since I wasn’t expecting Katherine for a few more days. I also won’t, as I was in fact last year, be riding home from the hospital, wondering what happens next. This year I’ll be playing in the nursery in comfortable clothes, keeping my little one from eating the other guy’s cereal.
It’s somehow fitting that, like last year, I won’t be where I imagined myself: sitting in Easter clothes, listening to the service. I hope this trend doesn’t last forever.