A Holy Day

Holy Days of Obligation usually slip right past me. They are announced at Sunday Mass, I note them on the calendar, and then... Well, things happen. Like today. Today is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception is, I believe, the Patroness of the United States, and, Lord knows, we need her patronage badly. (No puns, blasphemy, or disrespect intended.)

This morning, I got on the train, settled into my favorite seat (I can do that when I get on at the beginning of the line), reached into my purse, and discovered my rosary beads were missing. I pulled everything out of my purse, checking all the little pockets and corners where my rosary likes to hide. Not there. I checked my coat pockets, even though I never put my rosary in my coat. Just tissues.

I received this rosary as a Confirmation gift. The crucifix and five beads at the beginning of the rosary are in a box in my dresser, having become detached during one of nights when I tried to say the Rosary in bed. (Not a good idea, especially at 13.) I put the rosary in my purse when it seemed like I was going to a wake every couple of months. And then I got the bright idea, since my rosary was in my purse anyway, maybe I should say it every morning on my way to work. (It seemed like such a, I don't know, Catholic thing to do!)

So for the last several years, that's what I've done. I still have a problem nodding off somewhere in the middle of it--I catch myself saying the "Hail Mary" over and over or, worse, blending the "Our Father" with the "Hail Mary" into a totally new prayer. But I make the effort. When I finally accepted that my rosary was not to be found, I used my fingers.

And I put in a special prayer to St. Jude, St. Anthony, and the BVM. I promised her that if I found my rosary, I would go to Mass today.

My rosary was not hidden in the corners of the stairs on my way out of the station. They were not near the ticket machine where I stopped yesterday. I got to my desk, opened the drawer where I stash my purse--and, yes, there they were.

Next problem: getting to Mass.

My parish has a Mass tonight at 7:30 p.m. DD#2 has a volleyball game tonight at a different parish at 7:30 p.m. I got on the Internet, brought up the website for the Archdiocese and began to search for churches near Downtown. I knew of one in Chinatown, which is a lot closer than I thought it was, according to MapQuest. But then I found a 12:10 Mass at a church on Mission Street which was a little bit closer. That church also happens to be where my grandmother was baptized.

This parish was built to serve the immigrant population. When my grandmother was baptized, the immigrants were from Ireland and Mass was said in Latin. Now the immigrants are from the Philippines and from Mexico and Mass is said in English, Tagalog, and Spanish. About ten of us who got on the same bus stop, got off at the church. The pews were full, which is pretty good considering it's a Thursday and lunch time and I keep hearing about a "crisis of faith" in the American Catholic Church. (Must be related to the same "crisis of faith" the MSM reports that Americans have about Iraq, the economy, and President Bush in general.)

So, my Obligation is fulfilled, my rosary is safe in its pocket in my purse, and all I have to do now is get DD#2 to the gym on time!