He seemed "off" all weekend, just whiny and crabby, but I should have known something was really wrong when he turned down a hot dog after mini-golf yesterday. And ice cream. And popcorn. And a train ride, for crying out loud!
If there are two things that Fiver always does with enthusiasm, they are eating and train-related activities. For him to not be excited about the prospect of eating and train riding at the same time -- well, that should have been like a neon sign over his head, flashing SICK KID! TAKE COVER!
He woke up coughing in the wee small hours, the coughing quickly dissolved into vomiting, and once you get there, well there's not much to do but take evasive action and wait it out.
Even before Fiver's illness, we were playing it low-key this weekend. Our neighbors all had tons of cars in front of their houses, many of them were opening their pools for the season, but we kept it simple this year with some yard work, some grilling, and a little visiting with my sister.
On Sunday, we watched the annual National Memorial Day Concert, and, as I do every year, I cried when they played Taps. It doesn't matter if I hear Taps on Memorial Day, Veteran's Day, or some random Wednesday in February, I cry every time.
Do you know the story behind Taps? It was born during the Civil War as a revision to an earlier bugle call. Encamped armies had bugle calls to denote different parts of the day, and in the evening it was the Lights Out call.
General Dan Butterfield was not partial to the call his camp used for Lights Out, he thought it was too formal. He changed the notes around and got his bugler to play them. His version caught on, and soon it was being played for Lights Out in many other camps, and then at military funerals.
There are no official words for Taps, but there are many popular verses. These two are my favorite:
Day is done,
gone the sun,
From the hills,
from the lake,
From the skies.
All is well,
God is nigh.
Go to sleep,
May the soldier
On the land
or the deep,
Safe in sleep.
On Sunday, we also learned that both our pastor and our resident priest have been reassigned. And although I pray for their new assignments, and for the men who are coming to replace them, I am seriously bummed about the news.
I know it is not personal, but in the five years we've been members of this parish, this coming pastor will be our third. The new resident priest will also be our third. Did I mention that I'm not great with change?
We are not a huge parish, but we are faithful and we love our priests. Our resident has only been with us for five months, so to be honest, we hardly got a chance to know him. Our pastor is beloved, and when he announced that he had been reassigned, there was audible gasping throughout the church. We were surprised, to say the least.
It's funny, but Rob and I had just been talking a few weeks ago about what a positive impact Monsignor has had on our parish. I know that I was hoping he'd be with us for longer than two years, and I think there are other people who feel the same.
I hope and pray that we'll give our new pastor and resident our support and prayers, since I'm sure that it is just as hard to come into a new parish as it is to leave one you love.
A friend of mine said to me that God's timing is perfect, and no doubt this is the pastor we are meant to have right now, but that doesn't make it easier to say goodbye to one of whom I think so highly and fondly.