I coerced Margaret and Martin to go to St. Patrick's with me last weekend since we were headed next door to Saks anyway. It was so crowded that you could barely inch your way to the front. We ended up saying a quick prayer while Martin sat behind us Googling places to eat for dinner on his iPhone. As we sat back in the pew, Margaret and I began talking (quietly I may add) about the Virgin Mary and the Catholic vs. Protestant viewpoint of her. The next thing you know, an old man in his priestly garb (perhaps a monsignor?) came and rapped me on the shoulder, shock his head at us in a reproaching manner and repeatedly put his finger to his lips to shush us.
Oooo, how shameful!
Key learning: It's okay to walk around as a tourist, chat about the architecture and stop to take pictures but do not, under any circumstances, whisper about religion! What do you think this is? A cathedral?
Next time, I'll have to remember to text God while I'm there. I'm sure he won't mind.
Thankfully, as I walked alone to meet Janette and Laura for lunch later that morning, I happened to pass St. Malachy's, the "actors church," where years ago my grandfather would meet me on weekends while I was visiting friends in Hell's Kitchen. There I had a few minutes of real peace and prayer. And I lit a five-day candle in memory of my grandfather whom I miss a lot. Still. Wild to think that it may still be burning right now!
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