Wednesday started off great. It was Adam's birthday and we had bought him the new James Bond movie. I had planned his favorite soup for that night and was going to clean the house so we could all spend time together.
I knew they would be voting on a Pope again, but I didn't think that one would be elected that day. My personal bets were on Thursday but I turned on EWTN's "smoke cam" when I was putting Cole down for a nap. He was watching Monster Trucks on You Tube and I had the other half of the screen filled with FB and the smoke cam. (I was also on Twitter, laughing at @SistineSeagull!)
Suddenly, my computer emitted a loud buzzing sound and the screen when black.
Baffled, I finally pulled out the battery and re-started the computer. When I finally got the smoke cam back up, Cole was asleep and all I saw were bells ringing. I know that the bells ring multiple times a day so my first thought was, "Eh, no pope. Boo." Then . . . "Wait, they wouldn't ring at 1 pm my time UNLESS WE HAD A POPE!" My FB feed was burning up with "Habeus Papuem!" and "WHITE SMOKE!" My computer had crashed at the exact moment white smoke was emitted from the Sistine Chapel.
WE HAD A POPE! BUT WHO!
I called my mother to have a couple Valley-Girl moments and learned that my sister will be having a little Duchess in July. I parked my butt in front of the TV (EWTN, so I didn't have to listen to secular commentators wonder if this pope would allow contraception or gay marriages. The answer is NO, people.) and waited.
When they announced the name, I couldn't understand the MC. I heard something that sounded like "Francis" but I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out which Cardinal was Francis. FB was quiet. EWTN was quiet. The crowd in St. Peter's square was going NUTS.
Finally someone said that it was a man named Jorje, from Argentina and his name would now be Francis. Then the reason for their shock: he's a Jesuit.
This didn't have me sobbing, but I had a tear in my eye. A man named (the Spanish version of) George. A man who would be a voice for the meek, the poor. A scientist. A common-sense man. A man who looked humbled and scared. (I mean, really? I told my mother that if I was ever elected Pope, they'd have to wait while I finished puking my guts up to announce who I was.I think the poor was scared!)
Then... I read more about him. I read how he cooks his own meals, takes the bus to work. I read how he, in 2001, washed the feet of AIDS patients:
You had me there. I am a fan.
This man's gonna have to screw up big time for me not to love him forever.
I'm never called a pope Papa. It's a common diminutive, used to convey intense emotion and love for the Pope. Blessed JPII was always there. Benedict was wonderful... but Francis? Francis, you get the Papa. You get to be Papa Francis in this house. Why? Because you are awesome in so many ways. The saint you picked has the most perfect prayer, one we try (and fail) to love by:
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury,pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that we may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
I could go on but I am discombobulated and I have a deadline to meet. Let's just say, I'm in Papa Francis' corner, eager and excited to see what wonderful things he is sure to do.