A Day of Rest

What a difference a week makes. This Sunday I awoke earlier and had a lesiurely breakefast before 9:30 church. Last week I was running to get to 11 o'clock Mass. The morning was damp and cold and it smelled like snow as I walked the three blocks to the church or more appropriately the Basilica.

To be exact, Lambertus Basiliek Hengelo in Dutch. The beautiful edfice was started in the early 1800s and the first Mass offered was in 1890. During WWII Hengelo was a major train station and entry point into Germany, as well as being home to one of the largest steel plants in Europe. Suffice it to say in 1944 all hell broke loose from the sky and during a week in April much of Hengelo was destroyed by American Bombers. The Basilica took one direct hit and a bomb crashed through the roof landing at the foot of the Altar, but never exploded. After the war in 1948 it went under a major renovation and today remains an active parish.
Ahh I digress...

I found a seat with a great view right as the bell annoucedthe beginning of the Mass. First came 16 men dressed in robes, than 12 alter servers carrying candles, the crufix, and swinging inscence followed by an elderly priest. I wonder what all the pomp and circumstance was about. When the group reached the Altar the men began a chant that echoed throughout the Basilica. The words... the words... I recognize them - it is Latin. Yes, the service is what use to be called (pre-Vatican II) a High Mass. Almost 90 minutes long the entire Mass was sung. The priest for his age had a strong an clear voice, albeit I thought it took all of his strength just to stand. The man was definitely in the check out generation.

I am so glad I attended the 9:30 Mass and got to experience a spritual ritual rarely practiced anymore in the Catholic Church. I do not have any current pictures of the Basilica but I offer these I have taken on previous visits to give you an understanding of the beauty of this building. They were taken at Christmas time a few years ago.

The rest of the day was truly a day of rest. Watched a litte football as FC Twente, the local team, won 4-1 over FC Groningen, And Rotterdam beat Amsterdam to move FC Twente up in the rankings... (I Think) - Not real sure I understand all the nuiances of how standings are done in football. For that matter, I don't understand soccer - I mean football. But it was fun to watch in the hotel lobby and see fans get animated.

What to do for dinner - I wanted something lite but good. So I headed to a little french bistro around the corner. I figured I would never get in because reservations are always required. Well they had one table open right in front of the chef. He immediately said you came back. I said I had tried to get in the other night but there were no tables available. He said no...no... last year you were here an sat over there with a big group He was right and I was amazed. But what really impressed was watching this man work. He was a one man cooking machine. A dishwasher and two waiters had problems keeping up with him. I had his version of Cordon Bleu, which had an interesting twist. Besides just chicken, chesse, and ham there was pineapple and almonds on the top. Served with what I call Bene's potatoes and a salad, I had an Torrentes from Argentina which was crisp and refreshing. That is one wine that makes any dish with citrus a special meal.

Walking out of the restaurant I discovered it had begun to snow. Flurries were falling at a steady pace and I found a doorway with a slight over hang to fulfill our family tradition. That being, It does not matter where you are in the world you must call your mother on Sunday night.   Sweetie Too!

I spoke to my mom and then my sweetie.

After hanging up with my wife I walked back to the hotel in the snow thinking...

I miss you! 
See ya next Sunday!