On the Feast of the Transfiguration of our Lord

There is a certain measure of resignation one must acknowledge when he takes five children to an evening liturgy that starts at bed time. Often (read: every time) one or more children is recumbent and driveling as we turn into the parish grounds. In military fashion I dispatch the older children implacably onward into the church to fetch books and stake a claim on seating; if two or more are asleep then to the rear, else up front. Surveying the motorcar, I find the largest slumbering mass and employ a fireman's carry to transport them - guarding against the death-rays of fading sunlight - to an empty space in the nave. Again through the breach I return until all my countrymen are safely protected inside, and then "Up shields!" I arm and lock the vehicle. Regardless of what time we get there, I am always 2 minutes late into the liturgy before I am done.

Yesterday we departed from our standard maneuvers and added fruit basket placement to the process. As we celebrated the Great Feast of the Transfiguration we placed baskets of fruit and honey near the iconostasis. To the priest's amusement, he misspoke and erroneously informed the parish on Sunday that attendance was obligatory. To everyone's amusement, he declined to apologize saying it was good for us to acknowledge the sweetness of the day together. After the liturgy we were anointed, our baskets were blessed, and we were given a good measure of holy water ourselves as he went around the church. Afterward, we shared our fruit with the parish and took the remainder home. We continued to enjoy the fruits of the day all the way home.