Bad news, Vigil, noisy neigbors and Pentecost

Saturday, May 29

Mid-morning in the Monastery garden, somber Michael gives us the news: he could no longer visit us for cocktails! Actually, as he told it, it was pretty funny.

The evening before, the Abbott had a meeting with all the monks. "He wasn't looking at me, but...", smiled Michael, rolling his eyes upward, the gentle message was very clear:

"I should remind all of you that while you have family and friends visiting in town, they should come here to visit rather that you going to visit them".

There was an audible "Oh no!" from us. Oh no! No more cocktail hours? How could that be?

Aloise immediately answered by suggesting, "Can't you just do it anyway"?

"No, Aloise ", Michael replied with a smile and a wink, "I want to obey".

And that was that.

We had agreed to pick up Mary close to 1 for our lunch date in Juigne. With not enough room for all of us in the car, Aloise and Antje decided they would walk and meet us there. Lunch was a nice affair and we were back at our respective houses by 3.

This particular Saturday was Pentecost Saturday, Pentecost being a huge Feast day and a big holiday in France. Earlier in the week Michael had explained to us that the Vigil Mass ( at 4:30...and so no 10am Mass) would be quite different from the ordinary Saturday vigil Masses. Pomp and Circumstance ( such as the monks do) followed by an even grander Mass on Sunday. "By the end of Sunday Mass, you'll be glad Pentecost is over", he said. (It's funny, but Michael had also commented about mid-week, were the daily Masses too long for us? Were we bored? To both questions we answered, "No!") As well, the weekend was FULL of people, it being a 3-day weekend and all sorts of relatives of the monks had arrived to spend the "holiday" with them. The streets were bustling with crowds and cars and motorcycles; it was a very different Solesmes than we had become used to.

So with Mass set at 4:30, Mercedes and I enjoyed some time in the courtyard while Dad did his thing. Aloise and Antje took off for another walk, Aloise making sure that Mercedes would walk with us to Mass.

The Mass was said by the Abbott, dressed in splendor, Staff, Miter and all. Thankfully, Dad and I had continued to sit in our reserved seats at the front of the Church ( with Mercedes by our side) as the Church was packed to the brim. The Mass was beautiful; the chants spectacular.

Aloise and Antje joined us in the garden around 6. Mary had invited them for cocktails at her house, Michael asking, "Is Mercedes going"?

"Of course", answered Aloise, putting her arm around Mercedes. "We're a package deal!"

Back at the house (all of us having agreed to meet Michael again in the garden after Sunday's Mass), Dad and I

settled in for a bit. It was such a beautiful evening.

After cocktails with Mary, Aloise and Antje drove to town for some errands. Not wanting Mercedes to be alone, I joined her in the courtyard and we had a lovely visit. But something new was happening: our quiet sanctuary had been invaded by noise. Lots of noise. And it wasn't coming from the weekend visitors to Solesmes. Suddenly, we had neighbors!

We had noticed this the day before. At the garage next to our house, cars began coming and going. And voices - loud voices - began to be heard within the courtyard, where on the far side and across the fence another house was situated.

We hadn't given it much attention (although our peaceful enviornemnt had been disrupted) until that Saturday afternoon. It was Dad who announced, "There's a family moving in." And, oh boy, were they ever! By the time Aloise and Antje joined us in the courtyard - close to 9 - the noise had become deafening. So much so that I worried for Dad, whose window opened up to the courtyard.

Aloise, Antje, Mercedes and I chatted until past mid-night, by which time the noisy neighbors had gone to bed. But I wondered if we would ever enjoy another quite time in our courtyard; I had really come to count on and enjoy what had once been a tranquil place to read and visit outdoors.

Sunday, May 30

Pentecost Mass was glorious and not without it's quirks.

The Abbot again said the Mass. At the beginning, the monks ( all chanting), left their seats on the sides of the altar and gathered around the Abbot as waves of incense was distributed. They then began to process opposite the altar towards the gated area where the guests were seated. And just then, just before they reached that area, they all followed the Abbot as he lead them to the left, away from us and into the cloistered area. Just like that they left...and just like that the congregation was left wondering what was happening. We were there, alone, in the Church, quiet as church mice, waiting. But we could hear them. We could hear them as the chanting grew dimmer and dimmer...and then louder and louder as they reappeared and Mass continued.

Later we asked Michael about this and that mischievous look came into his eyes as he replied, laughing, "That's my favorite part of Feast Day Masses! Most of the people in the congregation have no idea what to expect and as we're processing out of the Church I love to look at them and imagine what they're thinking: These monks! They left!" But it was as we had thought, the monks had gone through the cloister, blessing it with incense as they chanted.

Again, after Mass, we met in the garden. It would be our last time together as Aloise, Mercedes and Antje were set to take the 2 train back to Paris. And, again, it was a beautiful, warm and sunny day. I told Mercedes that she had brought the sun with her from Madrid and thanked her for that present.

Michael checks out Antje's camera. He also took a look at mine and remarked that I had the settings all wrong...which is why my pictures all have a bluish tint!

Antje picked yellow flowers on the lawn and made a crown, which we passed around.

Aloise reminds us that she and Mercedes are "a package deal". We had had a lot of fun with that one; using the phrase all weekend to describe various relationships.

And, of course, Fr. Michael with his crown of flowers. No doubt he was recalling the congregation as the monks processed out of the Church earlier that morning.

We left Michael to have his lunch and we to have ours. Aloise and Co., were busy cleaning their house and packing as Dad and I enjoyed another stroll around town, timing it so that we would be back in order to take the girls to the train station early afternoon.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was unemarkable, except that Mary had stopped Dad after Mass and asked him if he could lend her a hand in her garden later in the afternoon. That "lending a hand" turned out to be putting up some trellises in her courtyard - a rather involved project that kept Dad busy until just before Vespers. I spent that time reading and walking...and was already feeling the panic: I had almost run out of books to read! "The 6 Wives of Henry VIII" I had devoured in no time flat. What I had left was a mystery novel I knew I'd finish in short order if I continued to read at the going pace. What would I read at the hotel in Paris and the airport and the 7 hr. plane ride home? Another book I had brought simply wasn't conducive. And the crossword book had turned out to be more difficult than I had thought when I bought it for the plane ride over.

It was a real dilemma.

Back from Mary's and on the way to Vespers, Dad told me that Mary had invited us to dinner for the following evening, our last in Solesmes. Being that it was our last evening, we opted to tell her that we would love to join her for "tea" before Vespers but that we had wanted to have a dinner out, explaining that we hadn't been able to do this on our Anniversary as we had scheduled that evening to pick up Aloise and Mercedes in Sable. And that's when I decided I would be bold and ask Mary if she had any books for me, I was that desperate.

In the garden after Vespers with Michael, we commented on how much we had enjoyed the girls despite our earlier reservations: that their presence might disrupt both the retreat we had hoped for and the idea of daily spontaneity. But their visit could not have been nicer. "Man proposes, but God disposes" is what I kept thinking all afternoon.

Dad had other things on his mind; namely the dent on the car that he had made earlier in the week . The dent was barely noticeable except for the white paint from the turnstile; you really couldn't miss the white scratches. It was a brown car...the shade of brown shoe polish, Dad realized. And the idea struck: if we rubbed brown shoe polish on the dent maybe it would go unnoticed. Michael quickly came to our rescue by telling Dad that certainly there should be some in the Monastery shed. Dad grabbed the polish later that evening and was ecstatic to find that the shade was exact! "One more coat tomorrow should do it" he declared, happy as a clam.

It was coming to the end of our stay in Solesmes and our sights were already turning to home; not a bad or sad thing at all. We had loved our time in Solesmes, loved spending time with Michael, and thoroughly enjoyed our outings. But mostly we had come to fall in love with the beauty of the Divine Hours. We spoke about this at length, spoke about this also with Michael. We wanted to bring this experience home. We decided to do what Clare had encouraged some years before: to pray as many of the Hours at home. For this we would have to invest in the books and learn how to follow each days Psalms.

Tomorrow would be our last full day.