Last week, I reached a milestone anniversary of sorts. Thirty-five years ago, I flew across the country and began an adventure which continues to this day. When I moved to Baltimore to attend Johns Hopkins University, I thought I would be back in California, where my roots are, as soon as I graduated. God had other plans…
On my first day, August 14, 1989, I settled into a downtown hotel and then walked around the city a bit, easily walking to the Inner Harbor just a short distance away. I got the quick sense that I would like it here, with the exception of the incredible humidity, which I had never experienced before. I wasn’t keeping a journal at that time, so exactly how those first days were spent are lost to me, with the exception of one major occurrence.
When I woke up the next day, August 15th, I knew I wanted to go to church. Not only was it the anniversary of my grandfather’s death, it was also a Holy Day of obligation to Catholics. It was the Feast of the Assumption, and I went down to the front desk asking if there was a Catholic Church nearby. The receptionist told me “there is a great big one just down the street. You can’t miss it.” I went outside and saw that the hotel was at the intersection of Franklin and Cathedral, and the great big church was the Basilica of the Assumption, the oldest Catholic cathedral in the United States. If I had looked out my hotel room window that morning, I could have easily seen it. In the photo here, my hotel was the multi story building on the left.
The Basilica is an amazing building, designed by Benjamin Latrobe, who went on to help design the U.S. Capital in Washington. When I walked into the Basilica for the first time, the interior was dark, with the walls painted grey. The stained glass windows, although beautiful, did not let much light in. Despite the darkness, I immediately fell in love with the place, and grateful to be there for Mass, my first in my new hometown, on it’s Feast Day. Some time later, I spent a few years working on Sundays at the Basilica, and feel blessed to have wonderful memories of my days there. I still visit from time to time, enjoying the restored brightness of the interior, with the cream colored walls and the clear windows which let in plenty of welcomed light.
My time at Johns Hopkins came and went, as did my Mount Vernon apartment, and the Sunday job at the Basilica. I moved out of the city and into a more rural setting, where I live and work today. Life has flown by, and it’s hard to believe more than three decades have passed since I arrived in Baltimore, an eager and hope-filled twenty-something, ready to take on the world. I’m grateful God has been with me every step of the way. Life goes on…
