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I grew up in a small town.  The population was around 800 when I was a girl.   The nearest city was nearly 40 miles away.

Church activities were a big part of our lives.  My friends and I were in the choir and Sodality.  My brothers and friends were altar boys.  We were all in Catholic Youth Organization.  Every May we held the May crowning.  We walked in procession to the shrine of Mary on the church lawn, singing hymns as we walked, and we crowned Mary with a crown of flowers.  Every evening in May and October, we teens led the rosary in church at 7 pm, and people came.  Every evening.

I have a lot of happy memories from those days.  A couple of weeks ago, I was back in my hometown for a reunion and happy to go back to the church where I grew up.

Sunday Mass was at 8:15 and I arrived early.   Outside the church, a sign announced the upcoming strawberry festival.  In the vestibule, a woman sat near the door selling raffle tickets for the festival.  Three or four people exchanged morning greetings.  I said good morning and entered the church.

I walked into the most wonderful sound.  Not music in the usual sense, but real music to me.  It was the sound of people praying together.  There were 30 or 40 people in the church and they were saying the rosary.

I love this beautiful tradition in my parish.  Before Mass, the people pray the rosary together.  The tradition began long ago, not priest-led or programmed, but something spontaneous on the part of the people.  Fifteen or twenty minutes before Mass is to begin, someone starts saying the rosary and everyone joins in.  After each decade, there is a pause and another person leads the next decade.  On it goes, people praying together, quiet and reverent.

I prayed and I listened, loving the gentle rhythm of voices in prayer.  More and more people came in until the church was nearly full.  I took in the beauty of it all.  Soft morning sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows.  At the front of the church, in a pale yellow alcove, was the crucifix and, beneath it, a simple altar surrounded by greenery.   We were together in prayer, ready for Mass to begin.  It was good to be home.