At lunch today, I passed St. Vincent de Paul parish. I saw cars outside, so I stopped. I walked in the tiny church and found myself interrupting the Fourteenth Station of the Cross. I knelt and waited for the end. A member of the parish introduced herself to me in the closet-sized narthex. Then she introduced me to the priest. Apparently Hornsby is a big name around there, but I am not closely related to any of the ones they mentioned. I also found out that my dad's former boss, from whom he bought our business back in 1984, is a parishioner there. Small world.
I was listening to a funeral motet by Victoria and started crying. My cousin Rusty had a stillborn daughter whose funeral is at 3:00 today at the little church a mile from where I work, where all my immediate family is buried.
I will go to the Good Friday liturgy tonight and watch The Passion of the Christ afterward with a few friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment