Catch-up Post: Birthday Dinner!

I turned 23 on September 19th... er... over a month ago. Whoops! Anyway, I got together with a group of my girl friends for dinner and drinks and cupcakessss. Mmm.

My mom sent a dozen cupcakes to my office which pretty much made my day. In the evening I met my friends at the fantastic Rabbit Grill which is conveniently attached to the truly amazing Red Velvet Cupcakery. All my birthday dreams come true.

Frank, sadly, couldn't join us because he was in class until 10 pm, but we met up for Mass and breakfast in the morning, which I adored. He treated me to the most fantastic crepes.

I really miss our morning Mass dates - lately Frank has been too overwhelmed with school and work to go as often as we used to. But I know we'll get our Mass game back on once his schedule calms down next semester.

Now it's just one month until Frank's birthday, when he catches up with me and we're the same age again. In the mean time I get to hold my superior age (and superior knowledge, wisdom, maturity, etc.) over him. His favorite. ;)

p.s. Frank and I went to Notre Dame over the weekend - his very first visit to campus! I can't wait to show you the pictures. Stay tuned.

The Oddity of Weekday Mass

My morning takes place firmly in the twenty-first century.

A cell phone alarm wakes me up. I eat Special K cereal for breakfast. I commute to work on the metro and spend the morning on the computer, using Word, Chrome and Entourage.

Then noon time rolls around.

Down the busy street I go and wait for the light to change so I can cross at the intersection. Around the corner and cross the street again. This time I shamelessly jaywalk because I'm running late, and there are no cars coming.

Up the steps and into the vast, dark, marble-paneled hall. Kneel for a moment to the tiny gold box in the corner. Step into the pew just in time for the first reading.

I'm only there for half an hour.  In that time, I hear ancient Hebrew texts, telling stories of a hot, sandy, rocky land many thousands of miles away, and of the people who lived in them millenia ago. Nothing like my cold, windy urban jungle.

I see enacted before me the Sacrifice at Calvary. In a stunning instance of time travel, I am present at the side of Mary and St. John, witnessing His bloody and painful death in an unbloody and peaceful form. It's enough to take my breath away.

I eat His flesh, living and real. I drink His blood, a strangely vampirical act, yet mystically sacred. How is it possible that I have become a Tabernacle for His living body? Walking back to my pew, kneeling quietly to pray, I carry Him inside of me. There is another soul present in my body, like a mother bearing an unborn child. Two people reside within my one flesh, Him and I. Would that He would reside there always.

And then - it's over. I go outside and walk back to work, waiting for the traffic light like any normal modern woman. They don't know, the people passing by me on the sidewalk, that I'm not just me. That He is with me too. That I have spent time at Calvary today. That I have paid a visit across an endless space and time to a certain Friday afternoon in 33 A.D.

What a funny thing it is to be a Catholic.

A Perfect Morning

Thursday morning I awoke before the sun (my Mom and Dad won't believe it) for a very special occasion: 8 AM Mass at Farm Street Church of the Immaculate Conception.

Farm Street Church is one of the newer Catholic churches in the UK, founded by the Jesuits in 1829, after the British Catholic emancipation.

I knew it was famous for some reason, but I didn't know why. Until I stepped inside.

 It is simply one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen. This picture shows only the altar, but it has 8 or 10 side-chapels branching off the main church, each dedicated to a different saint. I will definitely post more pics soon.

After Mass, my friend John and I walked slowly around the church, taking in its beauty. When we had seen everything, we decided it was time for breakfast. So off we went to Pret A Manger (aka "Pret"), a healthy chain restaurant that is everywhere in London. Literally every street corner.

Here we are at breakfast in Pret

I ordered delicious porridge with honey, so I couldn't help singing "Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold, pease porridge in the pot 9 days old!" John pretended he didn't know me... I can't imagine why.

As we walked out of Pret, filled with God's love and Pret's bounty, John said, "That was the perfect start to a morning, wasn't it?"

And I quite agreed.