13 hours later...

we gratefully pull into our own driveway. Whew! What a marvelous day we had, but oh, so long. I started taking bets at 8pm, still an hour away from home, how many frantic messages there were going to be from Tim, "Where are you? Why aren't you home yet? I do hope nothing bad has happened." As soon as we walked in the door I called to reassure him we were not all dead in a ditch and proceeded to bathe, dress and kiss goodnight the 2 babies while simultaneously informing him of the events of the day. The others did not protest one bit when they were put to bed 10 minutes later. After a small reward of popcorn and m&ms for getting through the day, I fell asleep in utter exhaustion.

Mass was lovely, and afterwards we took the opportunity to go to confession. I'm sure the elderly and very deaf priest didn't hear any of my sins, instead waiting for the silence to blurt out, "Is that it?" Not the most rewarding trip to the confessional, but it is the absolution from Jesus that counts, not the counseling or lack of it. I don't like going to the priest in town because no one else goes, making me feel like the only sinner in a town full of saints. We got lost several time looking for the banquet hall where a FSSP (Priestly Fraternity of Saint Peter) priest spoke after lunch for over an hour to a large group on the recent universal indult and what it means for folks like us. I sat in the back at the kiddy table and gratefully watched my children become ravenous monsters since the food didn't arrive until 3:30pm. Apparently the food wars have has some effect.

Father deliberately and carefully went over each portion of the letter and clarified meanings, pointed out mis-translations, and was very helpful in giving clear instructions as to what our job was in this age of opportunity. I came away with hope and purpose, and while I am not a leader in any sense, I think if will fall to me to gather the group of orthodox/traditionally-minded Catholics in town to approach the priest for a Latin Mass in the 1962 rite. While he has already told one inquiring parishioner, "I didn't learn Latin, I don't ever plan on learning it," we must ask him formally so we can report it to the bishop for furthering the cause up the chain of command. Once the bishop says, "too bad, so sad," we can write the Vatican committee to get some recourse. Now that the law is on our side after 40 years of prayer and toil, the pressure will fall to the bishops to accommodate our requests. The priest mentioned that even bad will from the bishops can be overcome, simply by demographics, since the bishops likely will become so desperate for priests that they are willing to take anyone, even those who only say the Latin Mass.

I am so glad we spent the day making new friends, seeing old ones again, and learning much. We are in the midst of a great renewal in the Catholic Church and it is exciting to be part of it. May God be given the glory and honor due Him, every day, in every place, and in every heart.