For the past month John and I have been creating a marionette show about the Woman Clothed with the Sun in Revelation. The Easter play had drawn a crowd of 240 people, half of them under six, and I expected almost as large a turn out on a sunny June morning. The Cathedral staff did too, and set up two hundred chairs plus an area in the front for kids.

The six performers included three adults and three children. Hope and Aurelle are masters at arranging the silk scenery, and creating subtle gestures with puppet strings. The boy who played the harp and drum took his job seriously too, and with a little coaching from his father who could actually read the script came in at the right cues.

The morning arrived and I was anxious about getting there early. The girls had been up late and were slow to get dressed. When they asked if they had time for breakfast I snapped.

"No! We are late! Grab a piece of fruit!"

We arrived in the hall before anyone else and I felt sheepish about having rushed the twins. But it was too late for cereal now. It happened to be Father's Day, though I had not given any attention to pampering John. After the other family showed up we had a run through and I felt ready for the performance. We tweaked the chairs and awaited the throng.

A father and his son came through the door, as did two sisters and their four children. I checked the time, and watched the entrance. One more mom and her son settled in near the front, and I started to feel baffled. Where were the people?

John nodded to me to start and I timidly began the first song. We slid into the well practiced flow of the story, and for a moment I forgot to worry about the attendance. The twins remembered every detail and John read the text with expression. The six children watching were oblivious to any expectation about the occupancy of the room.


Marriage is a breeding ground for expectations.

He will like my mother's recipe for lasagna.

She will be careful with the food budget.

He will remember my birthday.

She will wash my clothes.

Sometimes those preconceptions come true, or are exceeded. Other times we will be left with our jaws slacked. But I am learning to extract my assumptions from the mix, and make room for the unexpected.

As for why so few families came to the marionette show, I figure word spread about the fact that Easter was standing room only.

"Nobody goes there anymore. It's too crowded."