There was a time when I did Easter Vigil. The longer, the better (I believe the record was an almost 4-hour service in Pasadena). Vigil Mass was the penultimate spiritual experience, culminating a 40-day journey of prayer, fasting and almsgiving. And Holy Week was retreat-like: Palm Sunday Mass, a Holy Thursday Seder, a Good Friday program at a women’s spirituality center. And Vigil, always Vigil.
That was BK (Before Kids). It also was when I worked for church institutions oriented to the church calendar. Now my life is divided into semesters and governed by the timing of two toddlers.
Advent is known as “end of Fall semester” and most of it is spent grading papers and projects. Ash Wednesday sneaks up on me. “Lent, already?” And Holy Week: Let’s just say that the non-Catholic university where I teach holds classes for adult students on Holy Saturday.
The two children God has blessed me with also make it difficult to spend much time in formal prayer to Her. The longer Palm Sunday liturgy is too much for my son and daughter, and I would never think of interrupting the solemnity of a Good Friday service with “Mommy, I have to go poopy.”