Saturday, I slept over at my friend's house. She lives in the country, about forty minutes away from me. Because of this, I decided I'd go to mass at a church that was only fifteen minutes away from her house as opposed my normal parish. I mapquested directions before I went over Saturday and thought I was all set. Little did I know what that Sunday had in store for me.
I woke up at at ten to get to eleven o'clock mass. I dressed, ate, and brushed my teeth. I left twenty minutes before mass started to ensure I would get there with time to spare. I was concerned about the driving (the place where Meaghan lives had incredibly narrow, curvy roads with rather high speed limits and nearly no signs that tell you where you are), but I managed to follow the directions accurately. I got just where they told me to go.
The problem though? I Mapquested the wrong place. I'm not entirely sure what that address was doing on the church's website, but I was now wandering in a cul-du-sac in a random neighborhood, five minutes late.
I didn't know where to go next, so I decided to just go home. I was worried though. I didn't know if I could make it the twelve o'clock mass at my church, and I knew I couldn't go to six o'clock because I had Confirmation.
Resigned, I once again drove along. And that's when I saw it, just to the right. On impulse, I turned in and drove all along the parking lot, looking for a space. I couldn't find one (and mind you, this was a big parking lot) and had to park next door, then hike across said parking lot. I was so late (and I've never been late to church before), coming in right at the end of the Gospel reading, but I had made it.
I figure, though, that I should take this with me, make my daily hunt for Jesus as dedicated and filled with longing as my search for mass was, because right when I'm about to give up, He makes Himself known again. And, really, what more could I ask for?
No comments:
Post a Comment