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A year ago, I met a parish mom kneeling on the side of the cathedral, praying the Rosary in the light rain.
The Mass had ended; I had been outside the front doors. I told her she could join me next Sunday.
“I want to be here because this is where the tabernacle is,” she said.
The Mass had ended; I had been outside the front doors. I told her she could join me next Sunday.
“I want to be here because this is where the tabernacle is,” she said.
I knelt down six feet to the side of her (I wasn’t sure how afraid of c*vid she was and didn’t want to scare her) and finished the Rosary with her.
She told me how sad she was that the tabernacle was tucked into a side chapel and not in the center of the main altar.
She told me how sad she was that the tabernacle was tucked into a side chapel and not in the center of the main altar.
She told me she had sat through several of the Christmas (2019) Masses in the side chapel because someone should be there on Jesus’ birthday.
She had begged to stay in the chapel now, but no, only 10 people could be in *the whole church.* So here she was, facing the brick wall.
She had begged to stay in the chapel now, but no, only 10 people could be in *the whole church.* So here she was, facing the brick wall.
A holy Eucharistic devotee, shut out in the rain due to some utterly demonic stupidity. I was simultaneously enraged on her behalf *and* grateful that I was the beneficiary of such a meeting that would not have otherwise happened. Her devotion far exceeded my own!
She had had some knee problems. I watched in amazement as she slowly rolled into an awkward sitting position on the ground before attempting to stand.
“I could help you, but I don’t know how close you want me to get,” I said stupidly. Thankfully she was OK on her own.
“I could help you, but I don’t know how close you want me to get,” I said stupidly. Thankfully she was OK on her own.
We chatted a bit about personal stuff. She asked kindly, “Is your mother still living?”
I appreciated her sensitivity in bringing up the holiday. She was much older than I (a young grandmother, in fact) and her mom had passed.
We exchanged phone numbers and I’m so glad.
I appreciated her sensitivity in bringing up the holiday. She was much older than I (a young grandmother, in fact) and her mom had passed.
We exchanged phone numbers and I’m so glad.
Happy Sunday especially to all holy parish moms who love the Lord. ALL praying women are church moms and I’m so glad to have several fierce examples to imitate. Demonic stupidity isn’t going to win against women who love God. 
