How do you pick up the threads of an old blog? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand… Well, ok, it hasn’t been that long. But the last three weeks have contained one of those “before and after” experiences, the sort of episode that defines an entire chapter of your life and you classify everything as either pre- or post- {insert dramatic event here}. I was fully prepared to use my life-changing trip to Serbia as this moment. I was quite happy to define an entire era of my life by thrilling travel experiences. However, I rather find myself choosing a different, or perhaps having a different defining moment chosen for me.
Preserving a slight aura of mystery around the precise events, because I have, after all, gone to the extent of adopting a pseudonym for the purpose of anonymity, I will say that the Pickwicks have endured a train of events that I believe, could only happen to the Pickwicks. Fr Pickwick has given television interviews, appeared in court, evaluated local contractors, brushed up on fire insurance basics, and held services in a picnic pavilion, our living room, and a catholic church. Seminary really leaves one woefully unprepared for parish life. We have a few suggestions to enhance the curriculum after our rich experiences of three months.
Anyone and everyone acquainted in the least with the Pickwickian family propensity to Do Too Much did forewarn us not to Do Too Much and we would honestly have liked to faithfully adhere to the sound advice of our friends and well-wishers. Alas, looking back on the summer, I fear we may have Done Too Much. We took on a Serbian vacation like professional travelers (Mrs. Pickwick was only reduced to actual tears twice in the security lines, and mild hysteria perhaps three times), and as relaxing as it was to cover the entire country twice over by bus in seven days, we did think perhaps a day off or two once we got back might be in order. However, I am sure that the current media tour and little church rehab project will be almost as reinvigorating as the vacation. Or, if not, at the very least, it will all take place amidst strict carseat laws, time schedules based on actual clocks, far less rakija (served by nuns!), and little to no chance of misplacing our dear friends in a taxi with a driver who only speaks Serbian in the capital city of Montenegro. Which is some comfort for these trying times, indeed.
“Nothing is more imminent than the impossible…
what we must always foresee is the unforeseen.”
–Victor Hugo, Les Miserables