It tickled me to see how joyfully The Matriarch held court at her 92nd birthday celebration yesterday.
Our encounter with Jericho earlier this year was decidedly Christ-like, I realized as I reflected on Sunday’s gospel.
It had been a few (ahem!) years since I trailed along behind Trick-Or-Treaters, so I didn’t realize at first how treacherous the sidewalks in our neighborhood have become.
It was, perhaps, a bit overdue…but we finally took the plunge this week – and went ‘paperless’ at our place.
There were 232 email addresses on the initial distribution list, but mine didn’t make the cut. Instead, I learned of my dear friend’s death only when the message was forwarded to me by one of the original 232.
So I guess it would be fair to ask, just how “dear” a friend was Fran?
It felt a bit like somebody had neglected to pay the electric bill when the “Daily Mass regulars” arrived for 6:30 Mass this morning.
Come early, if you want to find a parking spot anywhere near the Laurel Falls Trailhead.*
Or maybe just show up. That might work, too.
Ever heard an ‘angel choir’? Thousands of voices, together raising a loud celestial hymn?
I’m beginning to understand this is precisely what I experienced on Sunday afternoon. But it took until today, as we mark the feast of the Holy Guardian Angels, for the phenomenon to sink in entirely.
We started our round on Hole #7 in the League Finale event – and what a curious blessing that turned out to be.