With much less fanfare than General MacArthur, I returned to church this morning. The door was heavy, and the air conditioning was cool. I crossed myself at the font of holy water, and took my regular seat. There was no one there who I usually sit with but there were the many familiar faces of the “regulars”.
Flipping through the missalette to today’s date, I waited for the hymn number to be announced.
Number 39. Humbly, Lord, we worship you. Good tempo, not terribly long, simple, serene, and lovely, and then the mass began.
It was as if I hadn’t missed a day.
As much as I might have wanted there to be something acknowledged for me in my head, petting my feelings, there was nothing to make me think that that any time had passed or that I had somehow was gone too long. In fact, I didn’t feel as though I was absent or that I was coming back, I was simply home again.
I hadn’t been to the physical church building, but I hadn’t been ignoring my faith; G-d was still everywhere with me.
I look forward to tomorrow and the rest of the week’s Masses.