That was a special evening of prayer. The patient was brought to obvious peace, his nurse commenting how calm he appeared. He was tearing at his shirt throughout the day, and when she entered in the middle of his prayers he lay in bliss. It was beautiful. God is blessing through the Hospice, pronounced in his scheduling, respecting and tendering to my needs. The last three weeks have been intensive employment wise, no days of in the time. God allowed me to concentrate upon work. Now Saturday approaches with a day off and God provides a wonderful patient to befriend and his family to witness. The brand new Macedonia nursing facility is astonishing in quality and breadth of fine taste and culture. I sat with his family, seated around a luxurious dining table in a large high ceiling lounging area, books and a three hundred gallon aquarium decorating. I marveled at my sense of peace and belonging. Two brothers and a sisters, all my age, spoke easily of their father with me. I can only credit God that a socially awkward man as myself blends in so well. I sat with the siblings, all successful family members, comprehending my isolated past as a severe alcoholic, understanding only God could be placing me in these conditions with pure and proper confidence and strength. Posted at the patient’s door is a framed box portraying his personality. There is a photo of a monstrance exposing a Eucharist. Amidst the items, the word ‘family’ is displayed eight times. Joseph’s family declares his family meant everything to him. I typed his name, meaning to keep it private. Reader’s do you perceive the significance? With a solid two months plus of stout devotion to Saint Joseph, reading J Ivan Prcela’s scholarly defining of Saint Joseph, God gives me a Joseph to pray with! His family calls him Joseph. They do not call him Joe. They call him Joseph. Another startling thing, something that only makes me laugh, meaning nothing more. I guess speaking in tongues, or whatever, may be a part of praying with Hospice patients. I am not sure what happen, and really do not care, only finding it funny. During the Divine Mercy chaplet, a weariness swept over me so intense it took all I had to fight it off. During moments, I lost the battle, falling into sleep. I would rip myself from the sleep, finding myself uttering strange sentences, clearly expressing points I knew nothing about. During the Divine Mercy chaplet, I found myself saying odd things. Whatever, a penetrating exhaustion played a huge part. If God wants me to say things I know nothing about, I just smile. I gratefully play the part.