As I prayed the last Joyful Mystery, this morning, I was reminded of how I felt two nights, ago. The last Joyful Mystery recollects "the finding of Jesus in the temple." Remember the situation. The holy family assumed Jesus was in the caravan. He thought he was just hanging out with the other boys his age, or walking with relatives. Imagine how they must have felt when they realized hat he wasn't in the caravan.
Well, Saturday night, hubby and I took our grandchildren to Fatima Shrine to see their Christmas light display. The six-year-old kept running off to look at this or that. Her baby sister wanted to follow her. It's dark out and her coat is dark purple and with her dark hair, it was easy to lose her. Once, when we were busy and distracted by the two-year-old, we lost sight of the six-year-old. I looked up and realized she was gone. She was out of my sight. We called her name. Again we called. Again. Everyone called her.
My heart dropped. I thought of Mary losing Jesus in the caravan. I thought how would I tell my daughter and son-in-law that I lost their daughter. She must have been kidnapped! Imagine how Mary felt. She lost the Son of God!
Then she came running back to me. I asked her, like Mary did, "Why did you do this?" But unlike Jesus, my granddaughter apologized. "Sorry".
But then again, Jesus had an excuse. "Don't you know I must be about My Father's business?" (Luke 2:49)
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