I don't know how anyone went to class today. I'm sorry, but when I got to sleep it was almost time for breakfast. Too much happened yesterday. Let me explain.
We woke early, rushed for breakfast, quick-tidied and packed what was left to pack. Then we ran to the bus stop, this time in full travel gear with our heavy backpacks, through the snow, and just made it to the tram into the city. We had to get off in Old Town, find a bus to take us to the city center station, and from there take a bus to the airport.
As usual, Blessed Mother had other plans. We missed our intersecting stop, but found a bus parked and empty. The bus driver pointed us, with a yawn, to a stop across the street. As we crossed, the bus we needed, not for the station but directly to the airport, pulled up along side us. This saved us so much time, and good thing, or we would have never made our flight (at least, not with time for coffee). Another miracle from Blessed Mother.
Yet another small miracle: once we boarded we all got seats together, and Corinne surprised us with departure kremowka- from Blessed Mother, of course, I wrote my entry from Tuesday during the flight, and then we realized that the smoke from the day's second vote would go up when we landed. I prayed then that it go up black- just so we could have time to put our bags back at the villa, enjoy a meal, and then plant ourselves in St. Peter's square.
We met our driver right after we landed and stayed rapt to Vatican radio like we were fleeing from our old country for haven, listening for any sign of a pontificate.
Black smoke.
Shortly after lunch I trekked out on my own, running into Allen on the bus then Steve and Isaac in the square, then Corinne, Erin, and Mary by the obelisk. We sang out Polish theme song and prayed and laughed until six, when it was clear there would be no smoke yet. Some left for Mass, some left for supper; I felt, for no particular reason, that I couldn't leave the square. I waited and said a rosary until Isaac reappeared, holding an umbrella above my head. Stephen, Allen, and Gracie found us, and we stood forever, or what felt like forever, inching forward toward the chapel chimney.
I wasn't watching when the smoke lifted, but I felt the crowd lurch, and it was white.
Only Stephen, Gracie, and I stayed together. We pushed as far as we could to the window (we learned later we were the closest of our group, significantly close to the front barrier) and then found a nun from Connecticut right next to us. We were right beneath the window. We waited again.
I loved Francis when I saw him. I even loved the crowd and the cameras and the screaming all around us. People swarmed all the way from the square to the Tiber, all eyes on the chimney, on a window. The fourth miracle of the day, the nun behind us was able to translate his first address to the people. She remarked to us how so close to the core of the human person symbols can be. Smoke from a chimney means "pope", but only because it means life, health, thriving, the great fortress of the Catholic Church alive and well.
I like Francis. I like him very much.
The fourth miracle occurred after our new Pope wished us goodnight. We all converged, not at all intentionally, en route to Old Bridge (the opposite direction of the crowds). Only three did not find us (and the Clark sisters we ran into on the bus), but the rest of us ate celebratory gelato and waited for the massive crowds to disperse. I met some Temple students there. They were typical Owls.
It was late by the time we got back, and later when exhaustion overcame excitement and I fell asleep. Sorry for missing class, but it has been a busy week.
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