Mass on the Banks of Inks Lake
November 12th, 2023
It is the seventh day. Campsites come alive and tent doors flap open, as my little family and others like us gather in a chapel of trees on the banks of Inks Lake. My feet, still sore from our morning hike, can feel roots beneath our picnic blanket. The community of faithful stand from their folding chair pews as the priest processes down an aisle of grass to a makeshift altar against a backdrop of shimmering water.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” we begin. I feel the Holy Ghost breathe through the quivering arms of the sycamore, whose foliage betrays the dawn of autumn. As a monarch butterfly dances through the falling leaves, the Gospel reading warns us: you know not the hour. I close my eyes and wonder: will I be ready if, today, death calls my name? The breeze gently draws my long, golden hair into its rhythm, as the Lord of the universe tugs on my heart to return.
The youthful choir’s unblemished voices reverberate across the lake, visualized by the ripples that caress the canoes on the shore. My vocal cords vibrate in my chest as I join them, pouring out my soul into the wind: “Hosanna, Hosanna in excelsis!” A silver bell chimes as it is struck by a pocket knife. We kneel.
I hold my six-month-old son’s tender body to my chest as we are hushed to reverence. With rosy cheeks and a frozen nose, he smiles; watching our community pray, listening to the chattering of the squirrels, inhaling the smell of grass. He does not see the ants and spiders that attempt to creep toward him. Bursting with a protective love only a mother can know, I ward them off before he can learn their bite. Likewise, I pray that our Mother in heaven will protect him from the demons who would try to steal his soul.
When it is time for Communion, the host dissolves on my tongue, and I receive the living God.
Our faith is not bound to a building; it follows us into the wilderness. We do not take vacation from our vocation to sainthood, any more than we could take a break from being kin. Bound for all eternity, we are a family, and in this family, I find peace. Sometimes it takes a change of scene to remind us what has always been, and will always be, awaiting our return.
