We waited until we knew the grandsons were napping this afternoon… before making a “socially distant” drop-off of Easter goodies on their front stoop.
Somehow, the cloak-and-dagger tactics seemed to fit the day.
We waited until we knew the grandsons were napping this afternoon… before making a “socially distant” drop-off of Easter goodies on their front stoop.
Somehow, the cloak-and-dagger tactics seemed to fit the day.
In recent weeks, I encountered a couple of ancient Rolling Stones – more venerable even than Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
In the silence…
Little Francis had a lesson for his Gramps yesterday, on the cusp of Triduum.
If you’re debating whether to head to church this evening, I have just two words for you: ‘Please go.’
All is quiet on Golgotha.
There’s just one Mass celebrated at our parish today, and that’s a rarity: Even on weekdays, we’ve long been blessed to have our choice of times for the faithful to gather at the Lord’s table — 6:30 or 8:30 AM.
Just a few more hours are left in Lent, as I write these words. (Although if you want to get a really intriguing and confusing conversation going, just ask any semi-knowledgeable Catholic when Lent ‘begins’ and ‘ends’.
I guarantee: You won’t get much of a satisfying answer, since the ‘40 days’ of Lent are stretched out over 46 actual calendar days between Ash Wednesday and Easter.)
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