I now realize that miracles come when you least expect them. But maybe, just maybe, they can come in like a neon sign. Sometimes there is a Cistercian in the classroom.
I came out of my prayer time in the chapel to find Father Jesse across the way, wearing a cope over his shoulders. I knew what that cope meant. I went into the church and sat down.
Father Jesse, preparing for Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, urged the students (and their teachers) to see that this piece of bread that was about to be positioned before them was not the same as a slice of bread for a sandwich. This was their God. This was their Friend.
The day I married my husband was one of the happiest days of my life. While true, that’s an unremarkable statement, one we’ve all probably uttered at one time or another. But for me there was a shadow behind it: the day I married my husband was the day I accepted that I would never walk into a Catholic church again.
My mind wandered off a little during the Alleluia of the first Mass of the school year at Saint Louis Catholic School. My eyes were still looking at the music teacher singing the Gospel Acclamation, but I was suddenly thinking about the story of Abraham when he agreed to the Lord’s command to slaughter Isaac.
By the time I looked up from my songbook during the Offertory, I knew why I was thinking of Abraham: my daughter was bringing up the gifts.