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The Late Mass

Father was late. After we pray the Angelus, we have five minutes before Mass actually starts. The silence grew. I thought back to last year, when we had a priest who didn't come at all. We ended up having a Communion service that day. If you believe that they're the same, you are mistaken.

When we heard that it was an emergency call at the hospital, well, that's the life of a Catholic priest. Could have been Last Rites; could've been anything. No one seemed to mind.

When he said, "Francis, our Pope" during the prayers, I was overcome with a great affection for the Holy Father. It's not the first time. I doubt it'll be the last. It is an affection deeper than the news cycle; I have never felt such an affection for the President of the United States, for example. Unless and until you live within the household of the Catholic Church, you can't understand.

It's the feast day of St. Rose Philippine Duchesne. She must pray for me a lot, because I feel inspired by her life every time I hear the story. Well, I am from St. Louis, and along with the King of France, she is our patroness. (And I'm also a bit French.)

St. Rose and St. Louis, pray for us!
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