In July I signed up for a weekly hour in our parish Adoration chapel. It was one of those things I'd been considering for a long time, but I'd never quite managed to figure out the logistics. Finally I said, "All right. The next time an hour pops up in the bulletin that's remotely doable, I'm there."
It's been fantastic. It's a little oasis in the week, a little island of peace and refreshment. I'd been a fairly regular visitor to the chapel but there's something special about being alone in there for a full hour. The first time I went to an Adoration hour it took forever. Empires rose and fell, tectonic plates shifted, mass extinctions occurred -- and yet somehow I looked at my watch and observed that the time was only ten minutes past the last time I'd checked. But these days I'm always a little regretful when my hour's up and I have to head back into the outside world.
My schedule changed between the fall and spring semesters, and I'd been thinking I'd need to ask someone else to take the hour because I don't have Wednesday morning babysitting lined up. I can get through an hour in the chapel with Stella in tow, but it's a pretty different experience. I was procrastinating on letting the coordinator know, though, because I was reluctant to give it up.
And then! Today! The phone rang! It was a woman I don't know at all. She has the Thursday 9am hour and she couldn't keep it because she was starting a new job. Believe it or not, Thursday at 9am is perfect for me, and Wednesday at 8am is perfect for her. How about that?
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