The Mission

 There were many beautiful sights and sceneries on the road trip with my brother. One of them being visiting a mission in San Antonio. I love missions, and have seen close to half of the ones in California. I didn't know Texas also had some missions, and my sister confirmed that there are 5. I assumed this mission that we saw was named after St. Anthony, but it was actually called San Jose Mission, named after St. Joseph. It was beautiful, rustic, reviving the old style feel for detailed tours and tourists awe spirited by its beauty. 

I wasn't sure if we were allowed to be inside the church, it looked beautifully inviting and traditional. Instead, I genuflected from outside the door and admired the cross that made me be still and just want to reflect and be. I knew it was the first Friday of the month and only wished I could go to Mass and receive the sacraments and the graces. It had been a long and tiring, special road trip thus far but I knew I was missing being inside a church, praying and just taking my time. 

I was grateful with how smoothly our trip had been and arriving safely to our destinations. I was trying to stay attune to the Mass readings as I brought the Magnificat with me as well as praying the rosary daily either in the car with my brother or to myself as I drove through flat, long and scenic views that expanded the elongating horizon and stretched my imagination of space. Surely visiting this mission was a highlight of the trip, and another devotion to St. Joseph, as well as St. Anthony of Padua in the city of San Antonio.