Our Lady of Sorrows, at the Shrine of Blessed Francis Seelos. Blessed by him. Isn’t it lovely?
What happened in the ten minutes standing there in between that statue and the reliquary there was so odd, so very Catholic, so random except obviously not, because I don’t think anything is.
It’s hard to tell well. It involved a bit of time in the Seelos Center, surveying the material on his very interesting life, then an attempt to get into the shrine at the back of the church, which was locked because it was after three. I almost didn’t stick it out and wait, but since there were about eight of us hoping to get in (not knowing that it closed at three), I decided that I might was well stay and see what would happen, and we were, after just a couple of minutes, let in courtesy of the people who seem to have care of the shrine and also seem to have a ritual of sorts offered for and with the pilgrims. Perhaps I will go into it more later, but it ended (after being interrupted by a cell phone call for one of those in charge, which she took) with us praying, with our hands either on the statue of Our Lady of Sorrows or the very small reliquary holding the Blessed’s remains, and ending with the prayer that God would fill the empty spaces in the hearts of the bereaved.