It’s closing in on midnight and I’d love to tell you about our day.  My eyes, however, are slowly sinking in the west.

I could launch into “We did this and this and this … and that” but it would be boring.  Tiny uninspired paragraphs.

No, I’ll focus on one happening.

I was surprised that yesterday Jagger said he wanted to go into a church.  Today was the day.

St. Bavo’s Cathedral is huge and echoey.  We walked in.  An airport-like stretch of straps and stands prevented us from exploring the sanctuary.  There was a Mass going on, and the pews were two-thirds full.

After a few minutes of onlooking, I asked a volunteer if we could sit down among the faithful.  He smiled and said yes.

This was my view:

The vaulted ceiling, the soft light through the windows, the statues imbued with grace … all was here.

The Bible readings flowed in Dutch, as did the words of the head priest.  Then he began to sing, interspersed with we the congregation responding in song.  His baritone voice carried me away.  His presence reached the nooks and crannies of the church.  I was taken.

In front of me sat a family of seven – mom, dad, three young girls and two young boys.  I stared.  There were soft moments of eye contact mom/daughter, dad/daughter and sister/sister.  One would touch another and the second would respond in kind.

One redheaded girl sat nestled into her dad’s chest.  You can just see a bit of her hair.  She often had her hand resting on his back.  I sat loving them all.

As the service ended, the priests and assistants walked slowly down the middle aisle.  The head priest made eye contact with nearby parishioners, accompanied by many smiles.

The family was standing to leave.  I paused beside mom and said …

I love to see the love in your family

Her eyes glistened and she put a hand on my shoulder

All was right with the world