A Tradition Continues
We did not choose our rambly, creaky old house -- it chose us. Or at least, a holly bush did.
It was the first week of Advent, 2014. The charm of living in a winter beach rental while my husband and I house-hunted had worn off as soon as the mice arrived for warmth. Our real estate agent brought us to see this place in all its overgrown, vine-covered, broken-down glory. We shook our heads at the amount of work needed for the price being asked and trudged back out into the cold. All the while, I was grumbling that I had no proper Advent wreath, never mind that all our Christmas decorations were in storage!
As we got to the car, I noticed we were parked next to an enormous holly bush and had a light bulb moment. I proceeded to break 4-5 small branches off the bush, (said an act of contrition) and headed "home" to construct the most rustic wreath ever, using cordial glasses filled with sand to hold up the candles.
A month later, after the owners dropped the price significantly, we attended an open house at the property, more to convince ourselves that it was too much work than anything else.
The holly bush stood, a silent sentry, begging for an owner -- and an apology.
We gave it both.
As the house became our home, it welcomed missionaries from around the world; many have given me hospitality in their home countries. A missionary sister from Pennsylvania was the first -- and most regular -- presence. A priest from Uganda blessed the house during his stay. An Irish missionary priest visits every year; one of the guest rooms is called "Pat's room" by other occupants. A lay missioner from Australia graced the place along with two of his "mates." A bishop from Sri Lanka took refuge from his constant business for a few short, refreshing days.
As I made the tally, I realized that this quirky, crooked manse has received a World Mission Rosary of visitors and blessings -- from the Americas, Africa, Europe, Oceania, and Asia.
This is an abbreviated list, of course. The house has welcomed mission friends and newcomers alike in need of a comfortable bed and a good meal as they travel through the Archdiocese of Boston. It has a talent for welcoming strangers in need of comfort -- beginning, of course, with us.
This is the eighth year that I've made our Advent wreath from greens at our home on Ferry Hill.
Always, with a few snips of holly. A tradition continues.
- Maureen Crowley Heil
It was the first week of Advent, 2014. The charm of living in a winter beach rental while my husband and I house-hunted had worn off as soon as the mice arrived for warmth. Our real estate agent brought us to see this place in all its overgrown, vine-covered, broken-down glory. We shook our heads at the amount of work needed for the price being asked and trudged back out into the cold. All the while, I was grumbling that I had no proper Advent wreath, never mind that all our Christmas decorations were in storage!
As we got to the car, I noticed we were parked next to an enormous holly bush and had a light bulb moment. I proceeded to break 4-5 small branches off the bush, (said an act of contrition) and headed "home" to construct the most rustic wreath ever, using cordial glasses filled with sand to hold up the candles.
A month later, after the owners dropped the price significantly, we attended an open house at the property, more to convince ourselves that it was too much work than anything else.
The holly bush stood, a silent sentry, begging for an owner -- and an apology.
We gave it both.
As the house became our home, it welcomed missionaries from around the world; many have given me hospitality in their home countries. A missionary sister from Pennsylvania was the first -- and most regular -- presence. A priest from Uganda blessed the house during his stay. An Irish missionary priest visits every year; one of the guest rooms is called "Pat's room" by other occupants. A lay missioner from Australia graced the place along with two of his "mates." A bishop from Sri Lanka took refuge from his constant business for a few short, refreshing days.
As I made the tally, I realized that this quirky, crooked manse has received a World Mission Rosary of visitors and blessings -- from the Americas, Africa, Europe, Oceania, and Asia.
This is an abbreviated list, of course. The house has welcomed mission friends and newcomers alike in need of a comfortable bed and a good meal as they travel through the Archdiocese of Boston. It has a talent for welcoming strangers in need of comfort -- beginning, of course, with us.
This is the eighth year that I've made our Advent wreath from greens at our home on Ferry Hill.
Always, with a few snips of holly. A tradition continues.
- Maureen Crowley Heil
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