Today is the feast of the Immaculate Conception. When I was a child I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how Mary conceived on December 8 and gave birth on December 25. Seemed a bit short but then again, when your baby is the Son of God I expect he can take a miss on the whole gestation thing. It was many years before someone told me December 8 actually celebrated the Immaculate Conception of Mary – that is, the beginning of Mary’s mother’s pregancy. Oddly, we celebrate the conception of the Lord’s mother and the birth of the Lord but not the birth of the former or the conception of the latter. I guess that would give us Arnhem Day for Mary’s birth and, my personal favorite, St. Patrick’s Day for Christ’s conception.
One thing I was never confused about was that my mother was especially devoted to Mary and that, to Mom, today was a particularly special day. Again, only later I found out why. The story is long and sordid and involves the innumerable hassles I caused before I was even born but the upshot of the entire thing is that today is the day I started stirring in the womb. Being a bit of a late bloomer and a late riser I took my sweet time about being born: that didn’t happen for two days.
So, this is the beginning of my birthday feast.
Today I relax. Tomorrow begins the mad dash across the Pond. Friday I’ll be catatonic and hopefully drunk and Saturday I can start to enjoy myself.
I hope you all have a very happy My Birthday (See what a nice fellow I am!). I’d like to remind you that as of Friday you have only two weeks and one day to buy me stuff. If I don’t have anything to say tomorrow I’ll blow great honking rasperries at you on my return from the Emerald Isle – even though I’ll be the one wallowing in misery.
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