(written this past Friday)
A hectic morning - I'm running late. Mass has already started when I arrive. I'm covering for the church secretary today, and don't really have to be here in time for Mass, but I want to. I see it as a bonus of the job, a mini-retreat to feed and strengthen my spirit. Slipping into a seat at the very back, I feel my heart stop pounding. I sigh, imagining all of my worries floating up into God's hands and peace taking their place within me. 
Daily Masses are quieter, more contemplative than Sunday Masses.
Behind the altar, light is streaming through colored panes of glass: a jubilance of golds, blues, browns, and greens depicting the sun shining upon a sailboat afloat on a lake surrounded by hills. It's a stained glass rendition of Lake Travis, very fitting for our church, St. Mary Our Lady of the Lake. A friend of Father Joe's made it as a gift for the church long before we moved here.
The image of the sailboat always reminds me of the passage in the Bible where Jesus is asleep on the boat and the apostles are freaking out because a storm has hit and they are afraid the boat will sink. Jesus wakes up, admonishes them for their lack of faith, and calms the seas.
Listening to the readings, I glance at the twenty or so others who have come to contemplate, worship, give thanks, or just pray this morning. Most are retirees, but there are a few moms with their young children here, too. Many are regulars.
These days, I only attend daily Mass when I'm working here. But a few years ago, when we were in the middle of building our house, I was one of the regulars. Those forty peace-filled minutes every morning helped me get through weeks of mental and physical exhaustion, and dispel worries brought on by short tempers, shrinking coffers, and looming deadlines.
I'm a wimp. I'm like the apostles, not at their finest most saint-like moments, but those fear-filled moments on the storm-tossed boat. At the first hint of trouble, my faith tries to turn tail and run.
Heroes surround me, reminding me of my wimpiness every day - family and friends who daily face struggles that would crumple me, such as cancer and its tag-a-longs: chemotherapy and surgery. I have friends who have had to deal with unfaithful spouses, addicted spouses, and even the abuse of their children by spouses. Many have children with severe disabilities or life-threatening problems. My oldest brother was a quadriplegic. My sister has Parkinson's disease and my other brother has Hepatis C. In the middle of treatments last year that made him ill, his wife died suddenly.
My husband was nearly killed in a head-on collision ten years ago. We spent a week in the hospital. Despite constant pain as a result of the accident, he spent almost every waking hour for two straight years (when he wasn't at his real job) building our house.
I like to think my prayers at those daily Masses during that time helped him; I know they helped me, and seeing that sailboat on the lake every day reminded me that we're never really sailing alone.
