A Well-Lived Life 2 - Book 2 - StephieChapter 40: You Give Meaning To My Life free porn video
April 8, 1988, Carol Stream, Illinois
“What services are these again?” Jessica asked.
“The first one is Vespers for Great and Holy Friday,” I said, repeating what Andrei had told me when I’d called to get the service times. “The second one is the Lamentations, which is Matins for tomorrow morning.”
“Then why do it tonight?” Kara asked.
“According to Andrei, all the services this week are celebrated ‘by anticipation’. So the Bridegroom Matins services that are done Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday are done in the evening instead of the next morning.”
“Why?” Jessica asked.
“Andrei didn’t know. We could always ask Father Basil.”
“Let’s go in!” Kara said.
We walked into the small church building which was dimly lit, with most of the light coming from oil lamps hanging in front of icons and dozens of tapers in golden stands near the front of the church. We found a spot to stand on the right side, about halfway back from the icon screen.
The Vespers were indeed beautiful, but also mournful, as one would expect for what the Orthodox called ‘Great and Holy Friday’. We’d missed the symbolic liturgical reenactment of the crucifixion which had occurred during the ‘Twelve Gospels’ service the night before. This service commemorated the taking down of Jesus from the cross, his delivery to Joseph of Arimathea, and his burial in the tomb.
Near the end of the service, the choir sang the Troparion commemorating that event: The noble Joseph, when he had taken down Thy most-pure Body from the tree, wrapped it in fine linen and anointed it with spices and placed it in a new tomb. And when the service was finished, the faithful lined up to venerate the Epitaphion, a cloth icon symbolizing the burial shroud, which was laid in a wooden structure covered with flowers, that symbolized the tomb. As we lined up, the choir sang the Troparion time and again.
“That was beautiful,” Kara whispered when we returned to our place.
“Supposedly the next service is better,” I whispered back.
There was a break between Vespers and Lamentations, and we had a chance to talk to Father Basil, and we asked him about celebrating ‘in advance’.
“The origin of these services is lost in the mists of time. We know that the current pattern was already in place by the 4th century, though the timing of when the services were held is unknown. Now, we say that the timing shows that the world has been turned upside-down.”
“So it’s reading back into what’s happening?” Jessica asked.
“Sure,” Father Basil said. “And there’s nothing wrong with that from an Orthodox perspective. There’s no theological reason why symbolism can’t develop over time. The same with music. Much of our liturgical music was written by Tchaikovsky - the «Литургия святого оанна Златоуста», the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom.”
“But this liturgy comes from the fourth century, right?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s right. And many of the words to the various hymns are that old, and some are older. The basic form of our services derives from the usual practice at the Hagia Sophia during the fourth century.”
Father Basil went off to talk to some of his parishioners and Andrei and Tasha came over. I hadn’t seen her when we arrived, nor seen her come in.
“Hi Tasha, how are you?” I asked.
“Good. I just got here about fifteen minutes ago. I had class. Are you coming tomorrow night?”
“Yes, of course. We wouldn’t miss it!” I said.
“Are you preparing your Pascha basket?”
“Jessica and I bought most of what we’ll need this morning. I do have a few things to buy tomorrow, though.”
Since we had another fifteen minutes before the service started, Andrei and Tasha suggested we take a walk, so we went outside. We returned in time for the service, which proceeded along the lines of a standard Matins service, albeit with additional hymns and prayers specific to the Lamentations. As the service progressed, the hymns became more and more mournful and melancholic, culminating with the choir gathering around the symbolic tomb to sing the first ‘Stasis’ of Lamentations, which represented the mourning of the women who had accompanied Jesus during his ministry.
The second ‘Stasis’ was equally mournful, though in the last verse, there was a hint at things to come.
It is meet to magnify Thee, the Giver of Life,Who didst extend Thine arms upon the Cross,
And didst shatter the power of the enemy.
The melody for the third and final ‘Stasis’ changed both tone and tempo, beginning with a statement of purpose:
All generationsOffer adoration
To Thy burial O Christ.
Near the end of the hymn, Father Basil began sprinkling rose water from his aspergillum, both on the ‘tomb’ and on the people, while the choir sang, joyfully:
The myrrh-bearing womenCame very early in the morning
And sprinkled myrrh upon the tomb.
This was repeated over and over until the sprinkling was finished, and the choir concluded with a clear statement of the expectation of the people gathered around the tomb:
By Thy resurrection,Give peace to Thy Church
And salvation to Thy people.
After several more prayers and hymns, the faithful again venerated the Epitaphion, and then the Epistle and Gospel of the day were read, and the service concluded with the usual dismissal.
“Oh my!” Jessica whispered as we quietly filed out of the church.
I nodded my agreement. I took Jessica and Kara’s hands, and we walked to the car. Most of the members of the parish were staying to read Psalms, which they would do through the night, finishing just before the Saturday morning Vesperal Divine Liturgy. We got into the car, and as usual, the girls sat in the back and held hands while I drove.
“That was so moving and intense,” Jessica said, as we headed for the Eisenhower Expressway.
“I loved the music,” I said. “The mournful a cappella music is just perfect. And the last of the Hymns of Lamentation, what the order of the service called the ‘Third Stasis’, was amazing. I’ve never heard anything like that in my life. I actually think I might like these two services better than the Paschal service.”
“Maybe next year we can go on Wednesday night,” Kara said. “I’d like to see that service as well. I hear it’s long.”
“According to Andrei, it’s over three hours and they read every single account of the Passion from the Gospels. That’s twelve readings in all. If you add in the usual matins prayers, hymns, and songs, I can see why it’s so long!”
“I was used to ninety-minute services, about half of which was a sermon,” Kara said.
“Same here,” Jessica agreed.
“At St. Andrew’s, we were in and out in less than an hour, and the homily was usually about ten minutes,” I said. “And you could go on Saturday night if you wanted to, which I suppose is kind of like a Vesperal Divine Liturgy in the Orthodox Church.”
“How many services are there this week?”
“I asked Andrei about that, and it’s 22, if you count back-to-back services as separate services, which they technically are. They start on the Friday evening before Holy Week and go through Sunday afternoon after Pascha.”
“Wow!” Kara said. “They must be in church almost full-time!”
“Andrei took vacation from work so he could attend all the services.”
“Has this helped you, Tiger?” Jessica asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose, from a purely emotional and psychological standpoint, yes. The services were very moving and spoke to me, but that doesn’t change the very basic problem that I have - I have no answer as to why Birgit and Stephie had to die.”
“Will you ever get answers to those questions?” she asked quietly.
“In all honesty? Probably not. But that doesn’t mean that I’ll stop looking for them. You both know that we can’t join the Orthodox Church because of our unique relationship. And to be truthful, I don’t know that I buy the whole death and resurrection claim. On the other hand, the Orthodox teachings seem more credible in the sense that they address what I think is the true issue - death.”
“Not sin?” Jessica asked.
“Sin is a symptom,” I replied, “not the actual disease. The actual disease is mortality. And if you think about it, THAT is the disease that is giving me fits. Doctors sure as hell don’t have a cure for it. And I guess that’s just it - there isn’t a cure, only a possible explanation. I suspect I’m afraid that the explanation is that, in the end, it’s all meaningless. That’s what I truly fear.”
“And the existence of god, in whatever way you want to define that word, gives meaning to your life?”
I smiled, “At our wedding we played You’re the Inspiration. You two give meaning to my life. As do my kids. And maybe that’s enough. But I’m not sure. What gave meaning to Birgit’s life? Or Stephie’s?”
“Both of them touched your life, and the lives of others,” Kara said. “Perhaps that was the meaning. Perhaps that’s why Stephie and Birgit were here.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. And I still wonder if that makes up for Stephie’s suffering.”
“But she taught you something very valuable,” Jessica said. “How to face your mortality, embrace it, even, without being morbid, or suicidal, or depressed.”
I sighed, “You might be right, but I still don’t like it. And who decided that was Stephie’s lot in life? I sure didn’t! I’d rather be confused and ignorant and have her alive!”
“And that would be better for you, and us, and your kids?” she asked.
“I have no clue, but Peaches would still be alive!”
“YOU are still alive, Tiger. So are we, and so are your kids. You’ve done a good job of focusing on the living without forgetting the dead, and you have to keep it up!”
“I know. I guess the mournful services just touched me in a way that the, I guess sterile is the word I want, funeral service didn’t. What we had tonight was a funeral service. One that spoke to me. Do you know the one and only thing that truly spoke to me in Georgia? Jorge dropping his flower into Stephie’s grave. THAT did more than anything that priest said or did.”
Neither of my wives responded and I spent the next ten minutes reminiscing about the time I had spent with my sweet Georgia Peach.
“I miss her,” I sighed.
April 9, 1988, Carol Stream, Illinois
We were walking home from karate class on Saturday morning. I’d been to Jewel earlier that morning, and made a stop in Greek Town as well, to get the final items for the Pascha basket. Jessica and Kara had stayed home, but Sofia had gone with me.
“I have to go to karate more often once my schedule changes,” Jessica said. “I feel like a moron! I’m still a white belt after a year and the little kids that joined about the same time I did already have at least one more belt!”
“Jess, it’s OK,” I said. “Sensei Jim understands your situation, and nobody thinks badly of you.”
“Oh sure, that’s easy for you to say Mr. 2nd Dan Black Belt! When a six-year-old kid passes me, it hurts!”
I chuckled, “Like the first time I lost a chess match to a girl!”
“Careful, Tiger! Black belt or not, sexism will land you in the dog house!”
My sister laughed, “Him? Sexist? I don’t think so! He did get a bit bent out of shape that first time, but then he figured out that there were other things he could do with girls and that was balm on his wounded masculinity!”
Sofia laughed, “Strip chess! I’ve heard about that!”
“Jennifer invented it!” I protested.
“Yes, and you took it and ran with it!” Kara laughed.
When we got home, my wives and I went up to our bedroom and the three of us got into the shower.
“Have you had a good week, Jess?” Kara asked.
“Despite my protests, yes!”
“I think Steve and Doctor Barton were right,” Kara said. “Not studying this week has helped you relax and lowered your stress level. Well, not to mention having lots of chances to make love with our husband while I was in class!”
“You didn’t get left out!” Jessica said.
“True, but this baby belly kind of gets in the way, in case you didn’t notice!”
“Well I think it’s sexy,” I said.
“Because of Donna Woody?” she asked.
“I don’t know if it’s ‘because of’ but that certainly made me see pregnant women in a very different light.”
“She was the one who got pregnant while you were overseas, but who loved you and would have wanted to be with you if she could have?”
I nodded, “Yes. She was the one that my sister thought might show up one day and displace Bethany. But events conspired to keep us apart. Honestly, I never saw the connection the way Stephanie did, but I suppose that it was there. Maybe if Donna hadn’t gotten pregnant, I would have picked up with her where I left off when I came home, and with Jen telling me that she was moving to Seattle, things might have gone quite differently.”
“Don’t look now, Tiger, but you’re speculating!” Jessica teased.
I laughed as we finished our showers and got out to dry ourselves. It had been a very good week, and the time that Jessica and I had spent together had helped a lot. I was feeling better about it, she was less stressed, and both of us had a much better attitude. Kara had noticed on Wednesday night, and Elyse had commented the next morning that all three of us seemed happier and more content.
Kara suddenly squealed and hurried over to turn up the sound on the stereo. The words and melody of You’re the Inspiration filled the master bedroom. She quickly walked back to us, and the three of us, clad only in underwear, held each other tightly while the song played. When it finished, we kissed, and starting dressing again.
“You do know I have a CD of the album that has this track,” I said.
“Of course!” Kara said happily. “But it just seemed perfect that it was on the radio after the talk we had last night while driving home.”
“What time are we leaving tonight?” Jessica asked.
“Around 9:00pm. You need to let me know when you want to come home, with you having a shift at 5:00am on Monday and because we’ll be up until at least 4:00am, including the time it takes to drive home.”
“We can sleep all day if need be,” Jessica said. “What are we doing this afternoon?”
“Kara has her chemistry study group, so I thought that you, Jesse, and I could put the Pascha basket together as soon as I finish tutoring my ROTC guys.”
“You do know that he’ll sleep through most of the service, right?” she asked.
I chuckled, “I’ll take any wager you care to make that he doesn’t! Jesse, who hates naps, promised to take one today. That was Jennifer’s deal with him to go to church with us.”
“Do you know the difference between a terrorist and a two-year-old?” Jessica asked with a smirk.
“Yes!” I chuckled. “You can negotiate with terrorists! But this was an ultimatum from Jen, not negotiation. And even that little turkey knows when to fold ‘em.”
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