122/365 Homily

Children's liturgy. The woman in charge is up there, waiting for kids to cluster around and then follow her downstairs. But her helper--whoever that was this week--isn't there. And there are too many kids to make this work. I get up. I need to go.

Hildegard catches my eye as we head out. "If Miguel does the homily I'll come get you," she promises. And this lightens my step. I go downstairs and set up the environment for Helen. She has a plan. I listen to readings. I note how our regular kids just aren't a problem anymore. Even the one family of foster children who were, well, difficult to handle even for the strongest teacher-esque personalities there (read: me), have settled down and know the routine.

Routine. That's part of Catholicism. The familiar allows for the moment of inspiration.

I sit in the back of crowd of kids, Maeve next to me. And Hildegard comes in and taps me on the shoulder. I don't pretend. I get up and go upstairs.