A Priest Forever

Today, my mom and I went to the nearby hospital to visit a dear, elderly Franciscan who recently took a turn for the worse and now needs the constant presence of someone to help meet his basic needs. We sought to offer comfort in whatever small ways possible...food, water, and conversation being some chief ways. I sang and read from one of my sister's brilliant Scripture exegeses to help take his mind off the pain of his tired body. Despite his physical weakness, Father's famous wit was still strong, and spontaneous plays-on-words interspersed his dialogue in the charming way they always have.

It was difficult yet meaningful — and especially Lenten — to watch a dear one suffer and be able to do very little about it. I also couldn't think of a more grace-filled way to spend a Sunday afternoon than experiencing this spiritual work of mercy.

The thing that struck me most, however, was when this suffering priest of 80-something years imparted his farewell blessing to his visitors. Despite the fact that the littlest movement was torturous for him, he made every effort to raise the arm lying limp on the pillow in order to bless us not only with his words, but with his I.V.-laden hand. Such a picture of fidelity. Such a picture of a priest whose identity runs in every fiber of his being! Such a picture of Christ.

Not In Control

I'm a perfectionist. Anyone who knows me well will tell you I am detailed oriented. I try to be organized.

And the past few days have been the kind that makes one feel and look disorganized, despite one's very best efforts. Ever experience a situation when your best-laid plans get thwarted, and you exhaust your resources to remake them but it still doesn't work out?

In a nutshell, a much-anticipated event I'd planned for my R.E. program families to have tomorrow at a local nursing home was cancelled Friday morning by the Home's Activities Director. I had another prospective location that was to take us (hopeful "plan B"), but at 1:30 this afternoon they decided against it, too! I was left with 75 children prepared to come in saints' costumes with music and talks, and no where for them to give the program...

In this midst of this saga, our main computer officially froze up. AND for awhile the laptop wouldn't access the database of phone numbers I needed to notify the 48 families. (Thankfully Veronica was able to procure the file for me).

The temptation to get deflated and frustrated has definitely been present. I mean, Lord, when I'm trying to go the extra mile and more to serve You, why the dump of this stress? When it looked like the plan B location might work, both relief and excitement came in. "Lord, I can see now why the first place cancelled — this one will be better!" Then when plan B fell through today, and I was forced to come up with plan C (having regular class back at the school with kids in their costumes), I had to hold up my hands and say, "Okay, Lord, I truly don't see the better plan in all this, but I still trust You."

These kind of bumps and glitches are a raw reminder that I am not in control. Oh, most of us try to be. It's nice to feel like we are. But it seems to me that if we get a little overconfident, the Holy Spirit likes to stir things up to keep us in our place and to make us trust the One Who is in control.

As I sought out the meaning in all of this today, it came to mind how many times Our Lady dealt with bumps and glitches in her road. Things like getting woken mid-night and sent to Egypt with a newborn obviously were not her plan. Nor was traveling to Bethlehem at nine months pregnant, for that matter.

No, our Blessed Mother did not have it easy. I'm in good company. I'm just working on having her reponse — the one that made her full of grace.

Fiat. Be it done to me according to Your Word.

Fatherhood

Yesterday, Dad and I went on our "Daddy-Daughter Date", a tradition he's done with his three daughters for at least the last 17 years. He takes us out for our birthday for a meal, and then to the nearby Poor Clare Monastery for Evening Vespers. My birthday was actually over two months ago, but we didn't have a chance to go out before now. :)

This time, instead of a restaurant, Mom and Sarah packed us a lovely picnic basket, which we took to a nearby greenhouse/botanical gardens sort of place. The outdoor beds seemed to be in a state of transition, so we found a sweet little bench inside the greenhouse and under a palm tree, spread the picnic cloth over our laps, and enjoyed our meal. We both agreed that it was the most fun yet!

When I was younger, I used to not realize just how privileged I am to have a father like this. In recent years, I have realized. And I was so strongly reminded of this tonight, when a few of us went on an evening walk and ran into a young girl trying to find a friend's house (which she'd never been to). In helping her locate the address, we got to know one another. At nineteen, this young girl had been through so many hardships. She mentioned leaving home at 15, and that her dad "was abusive and stuff". Just having enjoyed a beautiful afternoon of prayer and bonding with my father, I couldn't help but notice the painful contrast. And thank the Father for bestowing such gifts.

Sweetness

Last night, thanks to the invitation of a professional violinist with whom we've had the chance to become aquinted with recently, I had the opportunity to see Rachel Barton play in person — for free! (It was a final rehearsal for the a nearby concert she's playing this weekend...we all got to go.)

It was sublime. So incredible that a person can take that instrument and bring from it such sweetness! It's the kind of sound in which one can simply melt. Just amazing.

Our violinist friend summed it up exactly, I think: "She has an absolute gift from God".