I suffer from the torment of high expectations.
I woke up this morning, Holy Thursday morning, knowing that it is my favorite feast. Knowing that it is filled with stunning memories of my conversion, of special friends, of wafts of overwhelming incense, of priests laying themselves on the carpet before the altar, of walking through the dark in procession singing ancient hymns, of hours kneeling on a linoleum floor praying late into the night in front of the Real Presence with tears running down...
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