I’d never been to St. Louis, so when I learned that the 2024 National Federation of Press Women conference and awards ceremony would be there, my itch to go grew. My two adult daughters’ willingness to tag along offered the final push to pack my bags.
Since I’m always looking for signs of God’s presence, I soon began researching local churches and worship schedules, suspecting St. Louis to have abundant spiritual treasures. On Sunday, our last full day, the long-awaited Cathedral Basilica of St.
Louis finally came into view. A few hiccups had arisen over the long, hot trip, likely owing in part to a disrupted prayer routine, making my entrance into the cool sanctuary of the magnificent interior for Mass especially blissful; a welcome hug from God. Colorful mosaics with uplifting words from Scripture surrounded in every direction, reviving my tired soul.
The finale that last evening included a rousing performance at Jazz St. Louis featuring local trumpeter Keyon Harrold. Not long before that, over an Italian meal, I mused to the girls about the many steeples we’d seen in the “Rome of the West.
” St. Louis’s very name nods to a humble, faith-filled French king, hinting at the city’s deep religious heritage. The spires that mark the skyline—which we viewed from atop The Arch earlier—were undoubtedly in spir ing! But while I swirled spaghetti and meatballs in a spoon, my daughters challenged me with a question I’d asked around their age: Why doesn’t the C.
