This entire week I've been trying to not loose sight of the fact that it is holy week. During the past two years, I have been able to be in touch with the spirit of the week. The beautiful, somber anguish that is holy week! However, this year, holy week coincided with p-week. As interesting and fun as pcn has been to be a part of, I truly wish that these two weeks had not been simultaneous. Holy Thursday has grown to be one of (if not absolute) my favorite masses in the liturgical calendar. It is so rich and healing. To me, it carries an essence of tradition that allows me to better appreciate being Catholic. And tonight I missed out on something that I would have loved to have been a member in communion of. By the time I arrived at Newman, mass was already concluded and only a few people were still gathered upstairs praying. As I knelt down to reflect on the scene, my life, friends, and family, I could not clear my head. Of course I've had difficulty praying or centering myself before. Quieting the constant stream of thoughts venturing through my head is often not an easy task. But today was exponentially more disheartening. More than anything I had wanted to be at that mass. Yet as much as I told my saddened spirit that I had chosen incorrectly tonight, my anxious feelings did not cease. At some point in my reflection it dawned on me that I am always where I am meant to be whether I know it or not. Whether it is what I wanted initially or not. Only then did a sense of peace come to my soul. God is with all, in all. He is always with me. That will never change.