Blessings from Randwick Raceway! I am among the 200,000 pilgrims vigiling with the Holy Father.

Randwick is gianormous ...they just showed an aerial shot from a helicopter and it looks like people ad infinitum. I just left the stage with Matt and his band. I can think of two people who can hold a crowd of a quarter of a million. One just played and another is about to come to the stage :)

The credentials I have are getting me crazy access. Without going into details, I have access to a real comfy place with chairs and the best view in the house. Seriously, it could only be better if I was on the stage. But I thought, "This not why I'm here. I need to enter in with the people."

I left that area and went across to a place where people were eating from the meal packs. I never heard of canned tuna with corn it. What? Do they try to make it bad?

Anyway, I asked a group if I could bed down next to them for the night. It was a priest from Venezuela and his parishoners: aborigines. The priest was sent to a place he did not want to go. He was happy where he was and his community sent him to the most remote part of Australia to work with the native people. It is village of 400 that moves. It moves where the water is. The young men with him were so excited to be with me. They gave me their perspective of the experience. They told me how they loved Mamankjo. That means priest in their language.

I'm glad I moved. Sorry . . . gotta go join the conga line! ;)

We have come to the house of the Lord . . .