Feeling humble and grateful

Last week, I got an email from the secretary at my Catholic elementary school.  She’s known me since the days of pigtails and blue plaid jumpers (in other words, for a very very very long time).  She told me that she had shared a chapter of Mary and Me with the school’s new[ish] principal.

It was the chapter called “Bring Flowers of the Fairest,” in which I share women’s fond memories of May Processions.  My own childhood memories are in the chapter, too — the Marian hymns, the flowers we schoolkids brought to put at Mary’s feet, the way we used to file in an earnest line around the church as parents and younger siblings and parishioners joined in the celebration.

The principal really liked the chapter, wrote the secretary.  In fact, he liked it so much that he wanted to share the chapter with all of the teachers at the school — many of whom are not sure they really “get” the whole May Procession tradition.

I felt humble and grateful all at once.  It’s always an amazing feeling to hear from someone who has been touched by the book.  This email  — coming as it did from my alma mater — really spoke to my heart.

I can’t help but feel that the sisters — those wonderful sisters who taught there all those years ago, who made the May Procession an annual work of art, who had to pull out of the school due to declining vocations — would be proud.

And that means a lot to me.

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