Padre went on vacation, you see, and we have a unique evening daily Mass schedule. I admit it, I’m lazy. I don’t go in late (though I could) so I can drive 15-20 minutes extra for morning Mass. I don’t split my day (though I could) so I can make a noon Mass 45 minutes away.
Two weeks is all it takes!
Tonight in Mass, my toddler was as precocious as ever (luckily, we have very generous parishioners, and I never get scathing looks for her rambunctious behavior – at least not when we’re at our home parish!), and in between bribing her with Cheerios to get her to sit and keeping her from crawling off the pew so she could run up to see Father, I found myself reflecting on all that I love about the Mass.
I love the up and down of it, and the music in my head that only occurs during Mass. I love the pace of it, the reading of Scripture and the 2000-year-old ritual of it all. Lately what I love most is that I’m there. I have beaten the hectic busy-busy-busy of life and my schedule; I have slowed down enough to spare a measly half-hour for God. I give it to God, and, as always, he gives it back to me better than I could have asked! In Mass, I find peace like nowhere else. In Mass, I find what I was searching for then, and what I continue to need – the Bread of Life.
Two weeks away from daily Mass, and tonight I remembered again just why I go in the first place. I almost didn’t…I almost gave in to all the reasons why I should come home and feed said toddler. I almost listened to the little voice saying “ah, there’s always tomorrow” and the reasoning “well, it’s not required.”
Thank God for the grace to go to Mass tonight! Thank God for the sacrifice of daily Mass, because I need all I can get!