Let’s just say my pilgrimage to see Pope Francis in Philly last weekend began a whole lot better than it ended.
In truth, I probably wouldn’t have gone at all if I hadn’t won tickets in my church’s lottery. The spirit was willing but my 50-something flesh was weak (and skeeves porta-potties).
My initial plan – to watch Pope Francis on TV with my devoutly Catholic parents in the comfort of their shore home in Longport – sounded pretty darn appealing.
Still, something made me put my name in St. Norbert’s lottery.
And Someone allowed me to win. God wanted me there, I figured.