A pleasant day of no work, free time a blessing, leisure an activity in itself. John the Hermit spent the evening visiting, the two of us setting up the Dragon dictation program on his laptop, establishing the means for voice control and writing through dictation, a practice I am using more and more, although I find editing burdensome. I tend to read what I think should be there rather that what is really there. A poor attribute for an editor. I spent the afternoon in Huntsburg, Ohio, driving east on Mayfield Road for twenty miles or so. The terrain is hilly in contrast to the low laying areas I am use to in Southern Michigan and Northwest Ohio. I was visiting a Hospice patient, a ninety-eight year old woman somewhat responsive in a wheelchair. I pushed her to a window overlooking a wooded area and a creek. She was Catholic so we spent the time in prayer, a Rosary, Divine Mercy chaplet, an elaboration on the solemnity of Saint Joseph, also a prayer to Saint Joseph. She was another one that I felt the calling to touch, constantly maintaining contact: a hand on her knee, pulling up her socks, brushing her hair out of her eyes, holding her hand. I learned nearby, in Windsor, Ohio, is the tallest statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe, standing over thirty feet tall. Possibly tomorrow I will visit, or in the near future with Mary from the Philippines. It turns out John the Hermit is staying a block and a half from my home–convenient, surely a sign, a friendship solidified. It turns out he knows Mary, Shirley, and when I mentioned Ann’s friend Myron Saad he said he knew of the man, although he made it clear he just knew who he was. He did not know him distinctly. John use to take part in a Franciscan group at the Shrine many years ago.  It is astounding we would meet in Massachusetts at a Maronite Monastery, two of four men staying in the guest house.  Tomorrow we will work further on establishing his speech recognition aptitude. I will also return to Huntsburg, able to give the woman four hours of my time. God is good and all giving. I also wanted to express gratitude. I mentioned the other day my readers hover around eight to nine daily, comfortable in this regard. I do not check that often, yet when I did look into matters I saw the numbers now range around twenty, somewhat surprised with the find. I tell no one of this blog.

Windsor, Ohio Our Lady of Guadalupe private family shrine.  Notice the Crucifix is the head of Rosary beads surrounding the pond. 

A St John of the Cross poem in anticipation of a three day Easter weekend retreat:

Stanzas Given a Spiritual Meaning

St John of the Cross

I went out seeking love,
And with unfaltering hope
I flew so high, so high,
That I overtook the prey.
That I might take the prey
Of this adventuring in God
I had to fly so high
That I was lost from sight;
And though in this adventure
I faltered in my flight,
Yet love had already flown so high That I took the prey.
When I ascended higher
My vision was dazzled,
And the most difficult conquest
Came about in darkness;
But since I was seeking love
The leap I made was blind and dark,
And I rose so high, so high,
That I took the prey.
The higher I ascended
In this seeking so lofty
The lower and more subdued
And abased I became.
I said: No one can overtake it!
And sank, ah, so low
That I was so high, so high,
That I took the prey.
In a wonderful way
My one flight surpassed a thousand,
For the hope of heaven
Attains as much as it hopes for;
This seeking is my only hope,
And in hoping, I made no mistake,
Because I flew so high, so high,
That I took the prey.