"Ite Missa Est"

I haven't been able to make it daily Mass much these past two whirlwind weeks, but it is moments like these... these successive moments since... that have pressed me forward, have stretched me, have made me grow in ways not expressible. As I am wont to do, I analyze and theorize the eventual, the plausible, and the possible of the future. I see this as, in part, a dry run not only of future ails but also of future joys.

This is the "ite missa est" of the Mass. It is the going forth that cannot be ignored or encased in a shiny box and disregarded. It is integral to the Christian life.

I still cannot get over the spiritual and mental mementos given to me walking the halls and the streets since, especially on the long walks of the first visitation. It is a surreal state of things that makes me pause and wonder. It also brings me to the chapel and church (if it isn't locked). It makes me wonder and pause as I see the sight out of the window a stone's throw away—the iconic as well as the destitute, the chill of the morning, the dreariness of the fog or rain, the beauty of a bright, sunny day. All of it makes me pause, as though it is pregnant with possibility but also pain.

I suppose it is these moments, these lucid thoughts that are pondered, which in some small way reflect all the things Mary did as it was written that she "kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart" (cf. Luke 2:19). So it is, as with bated expectation, I must do. I must merely reflect His light, as though a lantern on a cold, dark night, and "with dawn there is rejoicing" (cf. Psalm 30:6).

“Frost and chill, bless the Lord;
praise and exalt him above all forever.

Nights and days, bless the Lord;
praise and exalt him above all forever.” - Daniel 3:69, 71