This morning proved odd in circumstance, a contradiction in happenstance. I drove three miles first thing in the morning in order to purchase coffee and donuts for St Paul Shrine. Storing my groceries in the back of my vehicle, I locked my keys inside. First time this has happened. I did not bring my phone as my intention was a quick trip for caffeine. A steady rain negated the idea of walking three miles to retrieve my extra key. My Nissan Rogue is too nice to consider a forced entry. I walked to a donut shop a quarter-mile away, praying a Rosary, oddly calm with the dramatic swing of events. The donut shop provided a phone and the number of a taxi company. Arrangements were made as I enjoyed a cup of coffee and a muffin. The cab driver, a Muslim, listened to my plight, kindly counseling me to trust in God, to see the good within my misfortune. Arriving home, I discovered Ramona starting her vehicle, Luke tagging along, excited to see me. I told the cab driver, I would no longer need his service. He asked for eight dollars. I gave him twenty. By the time, I was driving my vehicle it was too late for mass. I drove home, showering, drinking more coffee, before heading out to my vigil. Arriving at my vigil, I was informed my patient passed away late into the last evening. His nurse came and spoke to me. I asked if his daughter was with him. The nurse assured me she was. I responded then there was nothing to fear. It dawned on me I had a lot of donuts and nothing to do with them. I asked the nurse if her and the rest of the staff at the nursing home would like the donuts. She smiled warmly, assuring me they would be appreciated. Driving home, I discovered on masstimes.org a noon mass at St Clares, a Parrish I am keenly focused upon as a home. Attending mass, Joseph and Mary statues struck with relevancy, something I never witnessed before. The sight pleased, opening a deepening meditation, splendidly introducing a mass honoring the Holy Family. The church of St Clare in Lyndhurst positioned life-sized Joseph and Mary statues standing together upon the Sanctuary. In an alcove to the right of the Tabernacle, Joseph and Mary stood as one. There was not a Joseph statue to the left, and a Mary statue to the right. Mary and Joseph stood together. I have been fixated upon St Joseph in prayer and thought. In silence, observing, opening myself to the Holy Spirit my heart proved tender, my eyes misty. Devoid of despair, sitting alone in a church filled with families, I implored, asking God to provide wisdom and understanding, acknowledging a profound longing. I am convinced the consummation of my contemplative life occurs a part of a Holy union, a marriage within the Church or reclusion and marriage to the Church. My single status is not a calling, rather brokenness prevailing, an incompleteness existing, a remnant of my isolated alcoholic waywardness subsisting. Further anonymity, spiritual advancement, simply refining, maturity exist within vows, marriage or the cloistered life.