This morning on television, I watched the Mass celebrated by Pope Francis in Rome. Like many other Catholics, this was the first year in many years that I was unable to attend Mass in person and receive the Holy Eucharist and my palm. I was reminded of several offerings from my husband from previous years.
In the parking lot of our local Albertsons, a man used to sell palms that he had woven into crosses with roses. They were fresh and green, and occasionally my husband brought one home to me. I hung them in my library and kept them. For some time now, they have been dry and dusty, but I still love them.
I wonder about the man who made them and sold them for a few dollars each. I hope he has shelter and something to eat.