Janelle has been working evenings, often until 9pm, 10pm, or even later.  This has been frustrating for a number of reasons, but we were particularly unhappy with the schedule as it made her miss evening services this Holy Week.  As Trevor and I are in the church choir, this left me with a several choices: leave the little boys at home alone and hope disaster does not strike, leave Trevor behind with the boys, or bring all of them along.  We decided on the latter.

There was not really enough room for the boys to sit with me in the choir, but I still gave them that as an option.  They could also sit behind us, or they could sit where they normally sit on Sundays with Janelle.  They chose the last option so that they could see better.

Now, they weren't perfect, but I was quite impressed with all of my sons.  Trevor has been improving in his enunciation and intonation while singing, and the younger two did not get into any major fights and were mostly quitely following the services.  Both of them did come over to me a couple of times to figure out which song we were singing or to go to the bathroom, but they otherwise solved nearly all of their problems without intervention or incident.  

Connor even took Rowen up today to venerate the cross (although there was a bit of shoving).  I met them up there and had an intense feeling of "rightness" as we kneeled before the cross.  All considered, I am so glad that they were able to be there.

However, considering the lateness and length of Easter Vigil tomorrow, I plan on leaving them home with Trevor.

For a portion of my drive to pick up the boys today, I was flooded from a wave of nostalgia.  I do not know what brought it on, but I was hit with a clear memory of gathering at a friend's house in Mendon with several other friends from the area and setting up a Catan board.  There were enough of us there that we had two games running simultaneously.  I don't remember the specific day, just the joy and comradery that was shared.

We had those get-togethers often for a period of about a year around the turn of the century.  In some cases it was Catan playing, in others we had Dungeons and Dragons campaigns running with the new (at the time) 3rd edition rules.  Some days when the whole group didn't get together, a few of us hung out and played guitar, exercised at the local sports center (step aerobics and yoga), or played Spades.  We ordered from the local Chinese restaurant often enough that one time when I asked if they needed my phone number, they replied, "Don't worry.  We know who you are."

There was much in the picture that was far from ideal, and I was unaware of other problems that would be made clear to me later, but that time still plays as one of the highlights of my life--cherished forever.

Today's Cub Scout meeting consisted of two parts.  Part one involved coloring eggs using soaked onion skins and nylons.  After wrapped in a single layer of wet onion skin, the egg is placed at the bottom of a nylon stocking, and a knot is tied above it.  More eggs are similarly wrapped and added until the nylon is full.  Both Connor and Rowen did this with four eggs each.  Some scouts with larger nylons were able to place a dozen eggs.  Once the last knot is tied and the scout's name is written on the top (not an easy task--writing a name on wet nylon), the whole group is boiled.  In the end, the shells have a golden or greenish decorative coloring.

The second parts was an egg toss.  Once again, I realized how much I have failed my sons in the teaching to catch and throw department.  That said, they were still having a great deal of fun.  Aside from a few broken eggs in the hand from catches, the three of us remained largely unscathed from the event.  Connor, however, now wants to have an egg fight in the near future.

It might not sound like much, but it was actually a lot of fun.

This is always a busy time of year.  It makes me long for the days when "spring" break followed the week, allowing for families to spend more time with each other and their faith.  As is, I am participating in activities every evening of the week.  

Today was choir practice in preparation for the four masses later in the week.  Tomorrow is Cub Scouts.  Although not directly related to holy week, we are having their Easter celebration this week during the scout meeting.  Wednesday is Faith Formation classes, again not directly related to holy week but it will include some holy week activities.

The Triduum begins on Holy Thursday with mass at 7pm.  Holy Friday has also has its service at 7pm.  The Easter Vigil starts at 8:30pm on Saturday.  Finally, the entire family is going to Easter morning mass at 10am on Sunday.  As a part of the choir, I need to arrive about 45 minutes before each service.

The time is worth it, but I'm glad this only happens once a year.

We were asked today where we were in regards to the passion of Christ.  Are we like the Apostles, who professed their devotion to Jesus and then ran away during His time of need?  Are we the bystanders, who simply watch and wait for someone else to do something?  Are we pressed into helping carry His cross for a time?

Jesus' passion was not just the events that led to His crucifixion on Golgotha.  His passion is in our everyday lives, in the struggles of those around us, of the burdens and condemnations that they carry.  The disciples showed how easy it is to talk the talk when times are good, yet find run away in the face of actual disaster.  

It's so easy to condemn them, but would I do any better in their place?

Lines from poetry sometimes pop into my mind at appropriate moments throughout my day.  Often they deal with some element of my life at the moment.  Frequently, the lines are from the poetry of Walt Whitman (a personal favorite--probably for this very reason).  One poem in particular comes to mind often both as a student and as a teacher:

When I heard the learn’d astronomer, 
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me, 
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them, 
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room, 
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick, 
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself, 
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, 
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

The line "How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick ..." worries me as a teacher and often describes me as a student.  I'm having trouble keeping my mind in the game this term, more so than I have since I started taking classes again.  I have become unaccountable.  Perhaps I need to look around for the stars.

I've been having vivid dreams lately.  When I say vivid, I mean that I have felt completely immersed in them.  All of my senses have been registering.  The colors have been vivid, and I often do not remember the color from my dreams.  There have been smells and even the sense of touch.  Waking up from them has been quite disorienting.

I believe that dreams are made due to the patterns our brains are building, thus the interconnected elements from different parts of our lives.  I also think that we only remember our dreams if we become conscious while that pathway building is taking place.  So far, my Fitbit has agreed with this idea as it has shown that I have moved directly from an REM to an awake state these past couple of nights.

As I have enjoyed these dreams, I almost look forward to having my sleep interrupted.

I take medication for my blood sugar and a statin for cholesterol.  Quite likely, I will need to take medication for my blood pressure as well.  I also take a specific set of vitamins recommended by my eye doctor due to my eyes' macular degeneration.  I keep these pills in a nice pill box that allows me to separate them out by day of the week as well as morning and evening--which is helpful because one set of medicine is supposed to be taken during a meal and the other just before bed.

Yesterday, I was headed to bed knowing that I still needed to take the evening medicine.  For whatever reason, I looked at my pill container and thought that I had not taken my meal medicine (which often happens on Wednesdays since we eat dinner at the church), so I swallowed Thursday's dose despite having taken Wednesday's dose earlier (I had remembered).

This sort of mess up is not life-threatening with this particular medication, but it did have a significant effect on my intestines through the night and until about lunchtime today.  It's bad enough that I have to take the medication to begin with, but screwing up the dosage like that is tremendously frustrating--and inconvenient.  I was quite uncomfortable.

I remember looking forward to getting older.

I'm nearly finished with my coursework for my doctorate in educational technology from Walden University.  In fact, one of my courses this term has a major focus of getting my doctoral committee together for when I begin work on my dissertation later this year.  (My other class is taking more time than I would like, especially during the early part--and busiest part--of my work week).  With hard work, and a good deal of luck, I will have finished my dissertation and received my degree within the next two years.

Then what?

I was asked yesterday what I planned to do when I got my degree.  The question was then reworded to ask how I plan on using this doctorate.  The truth is that I don't know.  My primary goal is to increase my salary (hopefully enough to offset the debt that this degree requires).  I haven't really thought about "doing anything" with it other than hanging it on the wall and every once and a while condescendingly saying "It's Doctor Marks to you."

Those aren't very noble goals.

While I am now suffering a bit of existential angst in regards to my role in the cosmos, I am largely shelving this dilemma for the time being.  I need to get the degree first.  

It's nearly 9pm here and there is still light from the sun in the sky.  From this point on, we now have more light in our day than anyone who lives south of us.  Despite my love of winter, I have to say that I'm really looking forward to this coming spring.

Yesterday, I took down the majority of our holiday lights.  All that remains up are the lights around Janelle's art room window (which I forgot about until just a few moments ago) and the green St. Patrick's Day/Spring lights that I have around the kitchen.  Rowen insisted that I leave the latter up when I started taking them down.  I figured that a little color in the morning and evening there wouldn't go amiss for another week or two. 

We also noticed yesterday that our living room was starting to heat up again due to the amount of sunlight.  This was especially noticeable while we were exercising.  It got to the point that we even opened the windows to bring in a wonderfully cool cross breeze.

Thus, with the snow melting, the warming living room, the light in the sky more prevalent, and the lights in the house largely put away, it's beginning to feel a lot more like spring.

Just the other day, I was thinking about the red fence eyesore that is in our side yard.  It had probably been a dog kennel at some point.  We've kept it up as Janelle has been using it for her compost pile, hoping to discourage moose from getting into it.

I received a text (including pictures) from Janelle today showing that a momma moose and her calf had invaded our yard, gone into the enclosure, and were feasting on the compost.  They stayed in the yard almost the entire day, alternating who was eating (and occasionally lying on) the compost pile.  We had to be careful when walking the dogs due to their presence.  

I saw another moose running down the street in downtown Soldotna today as I was picking up Trevor.  Ironically, I had just been thinking to myself yesterday that it had been a while since we had seen a moose.  I wonder if they were out in such force today due to the warm (almost 50 degree) temperatures today.

They certainly were hungry.

​Jesus knew his death was approaching.  Even more, He knew the way that He was going to die.  It was not something that He was looking forward to.  In fact, more than once He stated that He wanted some other way.  Yet in the end, He sacrificed Himself so that none of us need fear death again.

Jesus' sacrifice was on a grand scale with the fate of the world hanging in the balance.  Meanwhile, I find it difficult to deal with minor sacrifices that require much less from me.  I often find myself falling short when it comes to day-to-day sacrifices.

These sacrifices can be as simple as giving up time that I set aside for myself to spend with others.  They could involve simply being aware of the plights of others and then doing even small things to help lighten their burden.  Yet too often I am absorbed in my own thoughts, plans, and desires to even notice the needs of others, let alone do anything about it.

I have a lot to improve upon in the area of sacrifice.