Tonight, dear friends, I traveled to the Fatherland – Nova Caesaria.
This morning I went to Mass for the Fourth Day in the Christmas Octave and the Feast of the Holy Innocents. These were the baby boys slaughtered ruthlessly by Herod out of blind rage and jealousy. They are called Martyrs by the Church. We sang the Coventry Carol after the Leonine prayers. Rachel weeps…
In my travels, I glanced out the window and from about 700 feet I noticed, in the dark, a most familiar sight as we were landing. It is the cemetery wherein my twin sister is buried along with two brothers who died at the same time, as children. There are others in the plot. Two other brothers who died as adults, and my dad. But there are also a niece and a great-nephew (practically babies). There’s also a rando in there. Don’t ask.
The death of a child certainly teaches one many lessons about the faith. Perhaps one day I will share some of those lessons. But for now, on this fourth day of Christmas, I was happy that God saw fit to fly me over the twin’s grave. I waved from the air. Tomorrow I shall go lay flowers and wish her a Merry Christmas in person.
Mother of Sorrows, pray for us!