Sometimes, hope can be inspired by the most mundane things, especially in this crazy, mixed-up world in which we're currently living. Sometimes, hope looks like a family of nine filling up an entire pew at a weekday Mass: a mother on one end and a father on the other, with their seven beautiful children--five older daughters and two young sons--between them.
That hope-filled sight is what my husband and I saw a few rows ahead of us when we attended Mass on Friday morning--on March 19, the Solemnity of St. Joseph. As if that family wasn't sweet enough already, they were joined by a grandmother a few minutes after they'd gotten seated.
But it was more than merely seeing three generations of a large, lovely Catholic family sitting together at Mass that comforted our wounded hearts and refreshed our weary souls. It was that this particular family, which we'd never seen before that day, was there at church unmasked, every single one of them, their faces--made in the image and likeness of God--visible to all and shining with the light of faith. In a sea of masked faces, this family stood out. In a good way. Such a good way. It made my husband and me wonder: is it possible that we can hope for an end to all of this, sooner rather than later?