Sunday was an evening of the latter. We went to a special exposition of 150+ sacred relics at St. James in downtown Vancouver. Of course, it didn’t even start till 7pm (read: bedtime). But we had help. We went to Mass at our normal parish Sunday evening, and our dear friends, Greg and Karissa, offered to help us with the girls if we decided to make the treck downtown.
“We’d regret it if we didn’t go,” said Andy. See, he always does the right thing.
So, just before what should have been bed time, we piled back into the car, stopped by a store to eat a quick supper in the parking lot, and headed into St. James.
It was packed. Standing room only. The girls did….ok. There was a lot of giggling, and crawling, and pooping, and holding. But I did hear at least part of what the visiting priest was saying about St. Maria Goretti.
We prayed. We genuflected. Mo practiced picking up sacred, special things and carefully placing them back on the table. Andy and I each got a moment or two to seek out a patron saint, and then it was time to wrangle our over-tired children back into the Swagger Wagon.
“I love Mommy and Daddy. I love Nana and Papa… I have many loves!”
“Wow Mo, the moon is so big and so bright! We could go hiking!”-Me
“Yeah! Or fishing! Or dancing! Or eat cake!”- Mo
“That’s not our car!”-Mo
“That is our car, Love. It’s our van.”-Me
“Nope, it’s not.”- Mo
“Ok, Love. If that’s not our van, then how will we get home?”- Me
“Hmmm….we can get a new car! I have great ideas!”-Mo
Some words are treasures. Sacred. Full of such innocence that they are used by God to pierce the mundane blah and remind you of the Love and Happiness that exists.
We just have to listen.
Or make our kids manic.