When the Firemen Walked to Church
While visiting her hometown of Little Rock, AR, my mom would often bring me back to her childhood church, St. Edward, which was inhabited by German immigrants in the late 1800s.
While visiting her hometown of Little Rock, AR, my mom would often bring me back to her childhood church, St. Edward, which was inhabited by German immigrants in the late 1800s.
It’s been a while since many of us have been to Mass. But, even after a long absence, on this Feast of Corpus Christi, some things remain the same!
I’ve always (what’s the right word?) envied, respected, appreciated (yes, that’s the word) how men can stare at the water for hours while fishing.
The squealing response I express after learning that someone is also Catholic can be quite over exaggerated and embarrassing.
I was off to a good start: cheese snack for breakfast. As we were driving to school, my two-year old said, “Mommy, I still hungry.”
I have no doubt my son inherited this love language from my maternal grandmother who showed her love by baking for others.
I have found that it is the small wins and successes that have the greatest impact.
I’ll never forget the day our oldest, who at the time was in Kindergarten, said with excitement, “I know who our family’s patron saint is!!! Saint Elizabeth of Hungary!!”