Day #2 – Lenten Reflections
Growing up, our Saturdays were reserved for hair washing and curling, ironing, and (a personal favorite) changing earrings in my newly pierced ears. No, it wasn’t the 1950’s. It was the 1970’s in our very traditional, Catholic home.
All of this prep was executed by my very measured Mom and was orchestrated to ensure a seamless and calm drive to the 9:00 a.m. Sunday mass the next day. For Mom, it made complete sense to have everything ready so we could arrive to mass early, shuffle into our left side of the altar pew spots (bride side, naturally), kneel and say a prayer before Father Gallie appeared like Oz from behind the large altar.
To Mom, “late” was not acceptable. Especially to church. Dad, on the other hand, with five minutes to spare before “go time” would pull his boots on, stomp around abruptly as if he was ready, and covertly slip into the bathroom minutes before our departure, Albuquerque Journal in tow. My sisters and I would crowd in our bathroom wincing as we pulled stubborn wire curlers out of our otherwise straight hair, and placing bobby pins in recycled Sucrets boxes.
With five minutes to go, Mom would flip her wrist to check her thin banded, tiny faced watch (which she always remembered to wind), and said once and only once, “Let’s go”. With the donation envelope packed securely in her roomy purse, her clicking heels headed out the door.
Then the frenzy began.
Dad would start the car, someone would lose and find their glasses and we’d load up. My spot was the middle front seat with the lap belt. The girls sat in the back and WAY back and more often than not, one of my sisters, would dash out the door, shoes in one hand eyelash curler in the other howling, “I’m coming!”
Finally, we’d make it to church, but never as early as Mom wanted…because on time is late, right? Or is arriving on time simply on time?
Whatever it is, I do know as grown adults, we are better at making it to mass on time… especially if we are watching from our living room.
If you judge people, you have no time to love them.Mother Teresa
Go for a walk outside today. Put your phone in your pocket, walk briskly, and count the different sounds you hear…maybe that sound will be your own breath.