Virginia Barton

6 July 2018: Rust, Moth and Woodworm

6 July 2018


Panic, cold sweat, foul language and soft knees. The result of losing a credit card. Quite out of proportion to the loss. After all, it wasn’t as if I had fallen over and broken a wrist or heard of the death of a dear friend.

Sinking onto the nearest chair I realised that missing Mass on a Holy Day of Obligation, or a Sunday, doesn’t increase my pulse rate, set off a panic attack or induce the shakes. The reactions to these two losses were shamefully different.


Do you remember the woman in the bible who lost a small coin, hunted high and low until she found it, and when she had, called the neighbours in to rejoice? Similarly I turned out every pocket and purse, upended shopping baskets and even my walking aid in order to find the silly bit of plastic. It was a grisly, nervous twelve minutes.

No neighbours were called in but a daughter was texted with the happy news when the card turned up in almost the right place.


But — when I failed to go to Mass on a Holy Day of Obligation without serious reason, the omission disturbed me for no more than two or three minutes. It’s remarkable how many excuses a person can dig up in a few seconds let alone minutes. I won’t bore you with the ones I came up with but they shut up my conscience for a good part of the day. Just a few tweaks to be stifled…

Octos, as I like to call us, can always blame age for both losing their plastic AND missing Mass. It’s probably one of Satan’s last temptations which he keeps specially for oldies.




One Comment


Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


(c) All Rights Reserved. Site Designed by Magtype CR