It's Friday...But Sunday's Comin'

There are many things I've missed in the past five weeks, and I have some sadness about that.  One of them is our school's reading fundraiser, which was held remotely during the second week and a half of lockdown.  Under normal circumstances, the 12 days of competitive reading in the grammar school would have kicked off with a story night, and the school days punctuated by fun book drawings, reading-related games, and culminate in the exuberant costumed Literature Day celebration.  Younger kids especially tend to make huge leaps in reading ability during this time, so it is exciting to see that fruit.

Each grade has varying levels of internal competitiveness, but Piglet's grade has always been insane, and Piglet's minute totals are always astonishing.  He looks forward to it all year, and starts plotting his strategy early.

This was his last year to participate competitively, and one thing I've enjoyed during this time in previous years was volunteering to be a mystery reader in his class.  I had picked out my book and story months ago, in anticipation: Tony Campolo's Tell Me a Story; I planned to read "It's Friday, but Sunday's Comin'.  It seemed the perfect thing to read in late March in the middle of Lent.

A little background as to why I like that story.  A couple of years ago, we spent a long October weekend in Minnesota for a family wedding on my Dutch side.  On the Sunday after the wedding, we all gathered in the back yard at my aunt and uncle's house and had a time of sharing and singing because that is what we do when we get together.  My uncle loves Campolo's book and read a couple of stories from it, including that one.  I wish I had an audio recording to share, because it was unforgettable: my taciturn Dutch uncle reading that story with such enthusiasm and emotion.  I still hear his voice in my head when I think of the title.

I wanted to share that story with Piglet's class, this is last year that I could do so as they will move into the upper school next year.  And perhaps there will be a way to catch all those things up in the fall, but somehow I doubt there will be the time. 

And so on this strangest of Holy Fridays, during these times of death and destruction, uncertainty and anxiety, as everything we knew before has washed away in the floods of the pandemic, I will say this:

It's Friday! 


But Sunday is coming.