Our Lady of Guadalupe Mission

I popped up my laptop to kill some time before check-in time. I was wondering about the evening. I couldn't wrap my mind around some of the events. They were all so diverse. I noticed an evening mass close to my home for the night, and I decided on that. The description promised a service in Spanish, and I just wanted to be immersed in another language for a few hours.

Crossing over the Chicago River as the early sundown arrived made an impression on me. I was glad I hadn't taken a rideshare to the flat. I checked in, stowed my gear and began making sure I knew the directions to the storefront church. A group of four people arrived, and a woman struck up a conversation with me. The four had just passed the afternoon in Chinatown. All were Chinese students on break from their midwestern schools.

She finally coached me to say her name, which sounds like "Jiffy". She was very inquisitive. "Was it colder in Michigan than it was in Chicago"? The Great Lakes surround us in Michigan I answered. The lakes are like a blanket. I went over my plans for the evening. "Is that an invitation?", she asked. I said it was a bit of a walk through the streets of Little Village. She didn't mind a walk. I excused myself to change into better clothing. Most churches say, "Come as You Are". I'm not one to wear blue jeans and a Planned Parenthood tee shirt to a church.

I made extra certain I knew where I was walking. It turned out to be farther than I had estimated. It required walking west an entire subway stop on the Pink Line. "I trust you", she said. I kept checking the map on my cell phone. The sidewalk turned to a puddle filled rubble. We made our way carefully through the street. She started to hum a song. A brick building without windows or a back wall alarmed me. I saw plenty of places open where one could duck inside for safety, including an office of Alcohólicos Anónimos holding meetings around the clock. I was so relieved to see a cross above a door and a sign in Spanish confirming we were in the right place.

We sat in the front pew because all of the pews were taken. A man in priestly vestments walked in looking like a lumberjack with a long red beard and he questioned his flock in a voice with a deep tone, "Who would like to carry the baby Jesus to the altar"? A man was plucking out Christmas songs in Spanish on the guitar, using a ballpoint pen as a cheater. I asked her if she were a graduate student at Purdue. I was surprised to learn she was wrapping up her first semester as a Junior. I had brought pretty much my daughter, a Chinese daughter, on an adventure.

I liked how Father Tomaz Pels delivered his homily in Spanish and then English. He began with a humorous question. "Ever notice how we keep celebrating the birth of Jesus and never his Quinceañera"? I never thought about that. Everyone in the congregation wanted to shake her hand when we all went around giving the sign of peace. "They were saying 'La Paz'?", she asked me. "Peace be with you", I answered. Looking it up later, we were wished, "La paz esté contigo."

After Baby Jesus and Father Tomaz proceeded to the rear of the church, we began Googling the sheet of carols for translations. Google revealed Campana Sobre Campana to be Bells Over Bells. "Don't leave", father declared from the rear of the church. We have mole and tamales and pozole. In marched a man with a huge pot of the spicy soup. After followed two women bearing a cooler of tamales. Children carried in trays of limes, cilantro, and enough corn tostadas to feed three congregations. I thought, "Dear three wise men, you can keep your gold, frankincense, and myrrh". Three men erected a table for this banquet faster than one could say loaves and fishes.