"Habemus Papam!" We Have a Pope

Last Wednesday, it was the eve of the conclave, and we were standing smack in the middle of uncertainty, having no idea what might lie ahead for the Church. But a mere 4 votes later, white smoke! How on earth? On Day TWO??

Like almost everyone around the world, we live streamed on our biggest screen, excited and terrified all at the same time, fighting the good interior fight of faith and trust.

Nearly an hour later, the glass pane doors opened and out walked a seemingly giddy Cardinal Mamberti, who looked like he could be thinking, “I know something you don’t knowww...” and then proclaimed to the world, "Annuntio vobis gaudium: HABEMUS PAPAM!"

 

 

Is this really for real?

I was still working through the passing of Pope Francis…let alone, now we have a new pope? I wasn’t ready, nor was I prepared for what happened next.

“Roberto Franciscum…[something something something]…Cardinale…Prevost…”

Me: Prevost? Who’s that?
Commentators: “An AMERICAN??!”
Me: An American?! Whooooa! Nowayyyyy!!!

“...Leonem Decimum Quartum.” (sorry Latin peeps)

Pope Leo XIV.

LEO. A name of tremendous consequence in the Church and the world; it’s been over a hundred years since we last had a Leo. It felt like we were suddenly somehow connected to that time, and to Leo XIII himself. I sat stunned and in disbelief.

A moment later, he walked into view, into our hearts, and history itself.

The fatherly countenance.
Hands folded gently across his chest.
Red-tinged nose, holding back the tears.





As if that wasn’t enough, Latin enters the chat: a greeting—and then a blessing. What a blessing! Unbelievable.

I remember when John Paul II was elected, how the world was knocked off kilter by the strangeness and surprise of his election, and from Poland of all places. He was the pope of my childhood, the pope when John and I were married, the pope all through having babies, and the pope of my adult conversion. In a world of ever-changing ideas, John Paul II was firmly anchored in the safe harbor of unchangeable love and truth itself, always maintaining eye contact and showing me the way. I had no idea how much I had been formed and shaped by him until he was gone.

But then here comes our newest Holy Father, clothed in the papal garb that symbolizes not the man, but the office that he holds, a barely-adequate reflection of the majesty of the King of kings, and the heavy responsibility, duty, and sacrifice that the office carries. As for the man? The man came with a palpable spirit of gentleness and humility that was both endearing and absolutely safe. It felt like home.





Of course, not everyone feels this way; socials have been wild. There’s a lot of hurt, anger, and division out there—for the papacy, against the Church, against God. Lots of people are just fried.

But then I came across a post that was unlike anything I’ve seen so far: it was this random oasis of calm and love. No criticism, no digging up old tea leaves to read, no rush to judgment. Just a bunch of people who were willing to watch and wait, but feeling very encouraged by what they saw.

One said that she can’t explain it, but she loves and trusts him.
Another that he feels very familiar, like an old friend is back.

It takes time to know things.
It takes time to understand things.
Because it takes time to live them.

But to me, it feels like Dad’s back home after a long time away. Like we’ve been richly blessed, and only time will tell just exactly how much.