After the Crowds Have Gone Home

Maybe it's because the family came-and-went ... and now I'm left with the decorations and the messy house and the memories.

Maybe it's because I'm trying like crazy to find a routine, to remember why I do those mundane things that make up my life, to reclaim the joy of just being me without the clamor of company and the delight of chocolate consumed without guilt.

Maybe it's because I'm trying to get back to daily Mass after a week-long hiatus and I'm trying to remind myself that it was the highlight of each day before the whirlwind of parties and presents.

Maybe that's why I listened with interest today when Father read about what happened after the crowd of 5000 left.

What happens when the crowds leave? What happens to the disciples when they get back in the boat and have to deal with things like nightfall and storms?

Jesus, help me to know that you are here even now, in the quiet that comes after the crowds have left, in the upheaval I experience after they have all gone - like a stormy night spent in a little boat.

Be with me when I clean the fingerprints off the patio door - and find myself missing my grandson Jojo.

Be with me when I get a call that three-week-old Omry spent the night at the emergency room and I feel the sting of being hours away from my daughter's boys - when the memory of them sleeping in the spare room is still so fresh.

Be with me as I try to fall back into the habit of daily Mass.

Be with me after the crowds have gone away.

Just be here.