Norwegian-American, Writer, Mom, Catholic, Wife, Soldier, Redneck, Photographer, Republican, Historian, Logger…(this list is not in any particular order, nor is it all encompassing). The definition of me refuses to be packaged neatly in a box. My writing desires to fly out in countless directions to explore the world or at least my world.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Catholicism In Mexico
attending Mass at new churches.Many
years ago, I felt like country mouse visiting the big city of Atlanta.I almost wrecked the rental car on the
freeway and after two hours of driving around in circles, I finally found my
motel.(In my defense, the motel changed
names after I made reservations, so I was looking for a different sign.)Across from my accommodations, an old
Catholic Church stood inviting weary travelers to daily Mass.My last morning in the city, I crossed the
street to attend church.As I was
greeted by those around my pew, I finally felt comfortable.I even felt at home.Since then, I try to stop by a church even if
it is just to say a prayer.
second full day in Mexico, we loaded into a bus to drive a couple of hours away
to see the Mayan ruins of Chichen Itza.The arrangements were made months in advance, so I was pleasantly
surprised when the bus pulled over in a little town next to a Catholic church.The guild only gave us fifteen minutes to see
the structure.I took the time to pray
and take pictures.I loved the statue of
Joseph with all of his tools.We also
stumbled upon a little alcove where the locals participated in Adoration.Again, I said another quick prayer.
this short stop, I noticed this roadside cross.I loved being in a country where Catholicism dominates the
landscape.At our stop for lunch, a
statue of Mary watched over us at the dining hall and another statue of her
greeted us at the Tequila shop.
Sunday, we walked about half a mile down the road to a beautiful open air
church.Earlier in the week when we
visited the church, my husband checked out the Mass times.We were surprised to see Mass halfway
done.He asked and they have an English
Mass in between the two Spanish masses that they don’t show on the board.Opps.We opted to wait instead of joining late.I am so glad we did.
absolutely no Spanish.I followed along
as well as possible with the English program and readings.Within the first ten minutes, I felt the Holy
Spirit descend upon me.I felt God’s
arms wrap around me.My eyes became
misty when a young family prepared their baby boy for baptism.I hummed along to the music.I loved the experience.My husband turned to me and whispered that
just weeks prior this was the type of Mass Pope Francis I performed in
Argentina.My experience couldn’t have
been any better unless I were at the Vatican.
At this church, I loved the Stations of the Cross and the picture of Mary shown here to the left of the alter. We have one of those at my church. I felt very much at home here even with the language barrier.