Bless Us, Father

On Sunday, we had a priest sitting in front of us during Mass. I don't know if he was there to observe the Mass (people who work for our Archdiocese visit parishes on a regular basis) or because he was interested in the Latin Mass. I do know that he may have regretted where he decided to sit.

My two youngest take a morning nap on their way to Mass and they tend to be a little wired when we get there. Despite this, lately, I can usually stay in the pew until the sermon. This was not the case last Sunday. My baby was very noisy. Thus, I spent most of my time in the vestibule. This would have been fine, except for the fact that my two-year-old (a.k.a. my child who doesn't leave my side) wanted to be in the church and was misbehaving in the vestibule. I attempted to return to the pew three times, but each time Elizabeth started to babble again. After receiving Communion, I was finally able to return to the pew and remain there.

I was very thankful to be in the pew, until I heard a thud. I looked down and saw that Elizabeth's shoe was lying at the priest's feet. For a minute, I was mortified. My little girl, who was wearing shoes for the first time, had succeeded in kicking one of her shoes off. My embarrassment quickly changed to gratitude when I saw the priest bend down, pick up the shoe, turn and give it to me with a smile on his face.

Bless us, Father. I hope that we weren't too much of a distraction. We hope that you liked the Mass and that you will return.