Some have enquired how I’m doing, and whether I have given up the ghost. I have not. I know I’m mostly alive because once again, I had a ride in ambulance after a harrowing coughing fit. To describe them is somewhere between having a tremendous amount of phlegm in your lungs, but no ability to cough it up, all the while felling like I might need… How shall I say this delicately… Adult underpants.
Speaking of giving up the ghost, how long has it been since your last confession? If it’s more than a month, time to darken the door of a pious priests confessional, lest you unexpectedly give up the ghost.
One of these spats costs me a lot in energy and emotion. I find myself crying over things that we take for granted, like the day I went to the hospital my dog, Oliver, waited all day outside till I returned. Such loyalty in man and beast is rare, and blessed the man who finds it. So, I cry about this, that, but mostly prayer. I wept copiously at the confirmation of my nephew about being a priest forever. Those moments, so often taken for granted, should be more often wept over. My Spiritual Father tells me this is good. I believe him.
I also have a full-time nurse in my sister Annie. She is a nurse by profession, and has college debt. There is no end to what she does for me, and much to her joy, the hospital bed arrived to day. I’m not sold on the idea yet, but time will tell.
I guess what I’m getting at is I’m slowing down. Trips and visits, especially emotional ones take time to recover. So I am not, to consternation of certain inhabitants of hell, going away, at not least anytime soon.
So, we keep praying for one another, and especially these days, for the unity of the church. I promise that I pray for the readers of this blog, especially my benefactors.
Go to St. Joseph! Go to Our Lady of Fatima!