Michelle Krupa | March 23, 2020
We arrived, as usual, just in time for the opening notes of the first hymn. But on this Sunday, we didn't have to hunt for a seat.
We had the couch. And the ottoman. And the kid chairs that, until this morning, had held up the blanket fort our sons built after a day at their new homeschool in the dining room. Student body: one second-grader and one prekindergartner.
I'd always imagined I'd take my family to Mass for the first time at my alma mater, the University of Notre Dame, on a home football weekend in the fall, when there's always an extra, early service to accommodate the throngs that flock to pray in the shadow of the Golden Dome.
Most Sunday mornings in my adopted hometown of Atlanta, we rush to the nearby parish of St. Thomas More, the patron of politicians and difficult marriages. But this week, when perhaps our faith in civil servants and our generally untroubled union was tested more than usual, all the Masses were canceled: coronavirus.
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