Getting to daily mass for me is a difficulty. I arrive routinely 3 minutes late. I try to change my pattern but it seems that something happens to prevent a timely departure and results in a late arrival. That is a big problem on the Tuesday of Holy Week. If you want to hear the first reading, you have to be on time.

Every year there is a different scenario that impacts hearing this first reading but I want to share my favorite.

Thank you for reading.

The year was 2009 and I was traveling in California. I had John with me who was 9 months old. I had taken him to a conference resulting in many lessons learned :

#1 – Nine month olds will not sleep through entire sessions. They may begin a session asleep but they will not remain asleep until the end, ever.

#2 – Jiggling a 9 month old is exhausting.

#3 – Lesson #1 will result in Lesson #2.

#4 – Allowing a baby to drool on an iPod will ruin it.

I had planned the day for success. I had plans A - F. I was prepared for everything and was ready for anything. I had searched the churches nearby for a perfect time that would make everything possible. I had confirmed the time of mass by phone. I was ready. I had rented my car the night before, paying an extra day to assure no delays. I would attend mass at the University of San Diego, a Catholic University near my hotel. I wanted to hear the keynote speaker that last morning of the convention and then I was on my way! I had packed my bags prior to climbing on the shuttle to go to the convention. John Paul was in a baby carrier. His stroller packed in the rental trunk. Waiting for the bus driver to unload a stroller was just the type of delay that could cost me valuable time. The car seat sat in the back seat ready for a quick get away.

I enjoyed the morning, jiggling John in the back of the enormous room now nearly empty as people left to catch flights home. I knew the time of the last bus departing and was ready for it as it pulled to the curb. I was alone in line and I smiled. My plan had included time for the bus to stop at five hotels before reaching my hotel. This would save a lot of time. John and I settled in to the front seat and enjoyed conversing with the driver. As we approached the exit for the University of San Diego I asked him questions about getting where I needed to go. “Why don’t I show you, “ he offered taking the next exit. I have plenty of time, I assured myself. I had saved easily twenty minutes with the direct trip. I thanked him and said yes.

I made mental note of the turns as we worked our way to the hill that ascended to University. We stopped at the gate. I hadn’t anticipated that. The driver explained that we were driving the loop and then leaving. “Wait!” I thought. "What was I going to say?" Would they allow me entrance just to attend noon mass? I looked at the time and tried to concentrate on controlling my breathing. We drove around the circle of a much smaller campus than I had expected. The driver pointed out the church and quickly we had circled the campus and returning to the gate. We returned to the interstate, the hotel, and I thanked this kind gentleman while trying not to bolt for my car.

I repeated the turns in my mind reminding myself that I was coming from the opposite direction. In my house, I am famous for my U-turns. I say, “It isn’t a party until you make at least one U-turn.” As I exited the hotel parking lot for the University, I watched the clock and rehearsed my line to deliver to the man at the gate. I honestly can’t remember what I said, if I paid a fee, or if it was as simple as saying I was going to mass. They let me in, that I know.

As I rounded the corner that led to the church, I looked for activity and a place to park. The doors for The Immaculata were open and as I slowed to turn into the parking lot I could see into the church, and it was empty, ENTIRELY EMPTY! It was certainly being remodeled to and to make matters worse I missed my turn. I looked for a space to park, a spot perform a U-turn, nothing. I had to complete the entire circle to try again. I was tight for time but that was not the big issue. I didn’t know where mass was. I didn’t make the mistake again as I turned into the parking lot next to the hollow church. A lady pulled in next to me and I franticly asked, “Where is the noon mass?” "Founders Chapel," she said calmly not noticing that I had broken into hives. “Where is that?” I inquired. She pointed to the classroom building next door hoping and I hoped she would offer to walk me there. No luck, she wasn’t going to mass but she said pointing in that direction, “Follow her, she’s going to mass.” I caught sight of a older lady heading across the grass in a purple sweater. I thanked her and hurried to grab the baby and seat out of the car.

We followed a path down an incline with the purple sweater in sight, I felt like Alice following the white rabbit. Just that as I turned one corner to see her she would disappear around another one. I was struggling to keep up, carrying a sleeping baby and seat with both arms and diaper bag heavy on my shoulder. At least I had her to follow I thought, until I turn the last corner and she was gone. Tears gathered as I realized I didn’t know where I was or where I was going and most assuredly I had missed the first reading.

I despaired. I opened the door in front of me to work my way back to the car. As the door opened I was amazed. I was standing just off the altar and a more surprised face a priest never saw. I stepped to the side and slipped into the second pew. Everyone was sitting and even though I was pleased to be there, I was fully disappointed. I had done my best and I had failed. Fighting my emotions, I stood robotically with everyone. I expected to hear the Prayers of the Faithful. Instead heard the words, “In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Tears streamed down my face, what was lost had been found – me!

The Father knows our thoughts and our needs better than we know them ourselves. He cares not only for our needs but the depth of our desires. He is the giver of all gifts, the best gifts. I settled in the pew that day knowing I was not walking alone, I had never been alone. In my need for comfort in my need to heal, God was with me in San Diego.