The morning routine was disrupted today. His normal pattern of stopping at the chapel for a moment of prayer in the pre-dawn hours was extended by an extra hour because his replacement didn't show up. Result: everything else in the day got pushed back.
By the time he arrived at home, intent on meeting his wife and then heading off to the early-morning liturgy, there was more than a faint doubt about whether or not their presence at this once-a-year morning gathering would actually become a reality. It's amazing what can happen though when one puts his (or her) mind to it. In short, they both made it in lots of time before the dulcid tones of the Introit signaled the beginning of the synaxys.
'Whew,' he breathed a sigh of relief. No need to worry that this precious moment would pass them by. Instead, the promise of divine company for the trip through the desert, accompanied by a visible reminder (even if only for a moment) traced upon the forehead, that this is a different time, a more sombre time, a period of coming to grips with the temptation to run away, seven weeks of preparation for soul and body in anticipation of the great feast of Easter.
Good thing he didn't decide to dally over breakfast.
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