Recently I visited my youngest son in Spokane as he began his senior year in college. I had no expectations except to be with him. He has had some health issues over the past year and upon arriving at the Spokane airport I flashed back to last September when I arrived well past midnight, full of worry, not knowing what to expect.

This time, it was to be a quiet visit with nothing more to do than share good meals and "hang out." The unspoken reason for the trip, however, was to be sure he was taking newly prescribed medication and that it was not causing him any problems.

Once we got beyond discussing how important the medication was and once he convinced me that I did not have to remind him about it every day (with all the drama such discussions can generate between mother and child), we moved into a routine that was much like a vacation. He went to class and I walked the quiet streets of downtown Spokane shopping leisurely and enjoying the beautiful Spokane River with absolutely no schedule.

Each night when we met for dinner a friend or two came along. It was nice to see the same boys who had moved into the dorms at Gonzaga University three years ago as young men. They all agreed that leaving the community they had become part of at Gonzaga was not going to be easy. They talked about what the future job market held and then just as quickly returned to the present. They seemed very aware of the significance of this final year together.

On Sunday, my son and I attended 11 a.m. Mass at St. Aloysius, the parish located on the university campus. The parish was celebrating the 50th anniversary of one of its priest's profession in the Society of Jesus. Five other Jesuit jubilarians joined him and together they concelebrated the liturgy with faith, wit and gusto that belied their age. These men had cared for each other, carried one another and loved unconditionally. They never would have made the mark of 50 years if they had not.

Each priest spoke briefly about their Jesuit experience over the past 50 years. Even my son, often fidgety in church, listened carefully. The homilist, one of the jubilarians, offered words that were simple but profound, addressing the congregation as "Dear ones" in a way that reminded me of the letters of the early fathers of the church: "Have plenty of room inside you for tears and laughter… care for one another… carry one another… and love unconditionally."

After he spoke, the other priests were each given time to speak. The oldest spoke so softly you had to strain to hear him as he thanked everyone for their prayers over the years. The final speaker said he was filled with gratitude for the blessings he had received. It was a powerful moment: not full of rhetoric or loud voices, just older men recognizing the goodness of God in their lives and sharing that experience.

The prayers of the priests became my own prayers of gratitude for the blessing of my son and his experience at the university, as well as prayers for the many unknown Jesuits who have impacted the lives of all five of my children in colleges and universities across the country. It was a brief moment of contentment before returning to the realities and crowded schedules of everyday life.

Anne Hansen is a member of the Camarillo Catholic community. Her e-mail address is familymail@aol.com.