Its a cloudy, misty day at the shore, we hear. Since she arose too late to participate in ecumenical worship, she headed to a familiar spot. Every time she walks in to this place she is transported to Camp Don Bosco: the two chapels share the same damp woodsy fragrance. She reported that the presider tried to make sense of the Collect as he prayed it, and had to join in on some of the other responses because the assembly was confusing their translations. The homily stayed to the text and didn't berate the secular world or include jokes, while the music stayed above the assembly's vocal range. The year round people like each other and are friendly. But above all, the Spirit transformed this simple feast into something much more than they suspected.
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