It's all in the details.
The Triduum, that is.
Like Greg's construction boots sticking out under his alb. Or a ten-year-old girl with beautiful black hair washing her mother's feet. Incense rising from the thurible like prayers to heaven. The sound of rosary beads as the Carmelites go to communion. My favorite hymns. Polishing the repository. The love with which Father Mike wipes the reliquary. St. Gaspar del Bufalo. Singing "Alleluia" for the first time in months. Cold water. The scent of chrism. Suzanne lighting my baptismal candle. Fr. Mike getting the choir a little too wet. Oscillating between laughter and tears. Brian's congratulatory grin when he came by for collection. Sticking my tongue out during the Eucharistic prayer, practicing for receiving the eucharist.
And now I am Catholic.
Like Greg's construction boots sticking out under his alb. Or a ten-year-old girl with beautiful black hair washing her mother's feet. Incense rising from the thurible like prayers to heaven. The sound of rosary beads as the Carmelites go to communion. My favorite hymns. Polishing the repository. The love with which Father Mike wipes the reliquary. St. Gaspar del Bufalo. Singing "Alleluia" for the first time in months. Cold water. The scent of chrism. Suzanne lighting my baptismal candle. Fr. Mike getting the choir a little too wet. Oscillating between laughter and tears. Brian's congratulatory grin when he came by for collection. Sticking my tongue out during the Eucharistic prayer, practicing for receiving the eucharist.
And now I am Catholic.
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