This blog, to a lesser degree, provides an examination of conscience, public to the discretion of anonymity except for a few. Steady reading holds to approximately eight to ten perusers. Perfect numbers in regards to efficacy and humility. Hopefully delusion is avoided, truthseeking forefront–faith, hope, and charity persevering on through imperfection. Today, I made a decision. I am not absolutely positive in terms of deeper motives. I assisted the Jewish couple blocks from my home. Afterwards, she called distraught while I was working. The Hospice volunteer who relieved me abandoned her husband, declaring him combative and unruly, reporting he was throwing his sheets irate, hysterical and tossing about. The wife came home to her husband uncovered, soaked in pee, visibly upset. He was very good with me. We even shared a moment of clarity. I was positive he was calm, at peace with everything, attempting to talk to me. I could clearly make out the word ‘alright’. Mostly, we slept. I became very tired, telling him I was going to take a nap. His wife setup an incredible recliner for me that even massages your back. I covered up with a blanket and we slept, while game shows played on the television. I woke to pray a Rosary and speak with him a little. I am confident we have established something, authentically bonding. While working, I made the decision to offer assistance to the couple. He is a large man. He must be difficult for her in regards to bathing and changing his bedding. I have to stop by after work in order to retrieve some items I accidentally left behind. Everything points to God leading me to the couple. We’ll discuss matters tonight after work. I will offer to regularly and routinely bathe him, clean him, change his bedding, and provide transportation. I thought closely about everything, guestioning myself, honestly unsure of myself, closely absorbing recent advice from the Man of Prayer, unafraid to work within personal frailties. I will not stagnant through a fixation upon my weaknesses. I refuse to define myself by sinful tendencies. It is a part of moving beyond an identity as an alcoholic. God has more in mind for me then getting stuck in self-absorbtion. I discern God active through the Jewish couple, testing and calling out, challenging toward greater maturity. The husband and wife need help. I will precede forward, trusting in God, understanding the complexities of the human psyche, pleading with my Holy Mother to know my heart in ways I do not. I will offer myself to be of service to the couple, planning to open myself to the husband, to tell him about my failings, to let him know how much I need him. I think it is mentally severe on him to be bedridden, helpless, unresponsive, yet cognizant. The mental battle for sanity a challenge beyond comprehension. He lays mostly in a fetal position, dependent upon a teddy bear. He bats at it, and cuddles with it. I even wonder if it fell off the bed and the other volunteer did not retrieve it. I honestly think I can be a friend to him, to be a source of relief for his wife.

On another note, it appears I will manage a two day weekend, necessary solace from work. Then three days of work leading to the Easter retreat, five days vacation, at the Maronite Monastery of Adoration. Downtime of devotional contemplative prayer. I need the time away from work desperately.

God heals, Christ forgives, Mary the Undoer of Knots unravels. The fellowship angle of life continues to astound. The Hospice called today asking if I could help out a woman, saying her name as if I would easily remember her. I came up with nothing. As soon as the woman’s husband was mentioned, I knew exactly who they were talking about. I am proud I remembered him instantly. I sat with him, allowing his wife to visit with her sister during the day. It was a one day encounter, yet I distinctly remember him. I felt guilty because I thought about his wife more than professional courtesy allowed. After the day, I prayed that God would prevent me from seeing the woman again. She is a Jewish woman, beautiful with a charming and friendly manner. She is the kind of woman who is funny without meaning to be, a talker full of life, fun to be around, prone to place her hands upon you while speaking. I was positive I enjoyed my time with her too much, finding myself subjected to horrible fantasies about furthering social activity with the woman, scheming how we could do things together. I felt a bit overwhelmed, resorting to prayer that I would have no further interaction with the woman. Today, sitting in my vehicle after Mass and Adoration, the Hospice called, immediately followed by a conversation with the woman. I felt comfortable speaking to her, happy to hear from her. She recalled my schedule, relieved I would be able to assist her in attending a funeral. She will not leave her husband alone for lengthy periods of time. I now have no problem interacting with her, comfortable with the almost two month period of silence between our last contact. I am positive God approves. There is nothing improper. Her husband is the focus, while she, as a caretaker experiencing the passing of her husband, deserves support and time to pay respect to family and friends. I am humbly and properly elated to hear from her, to be able to sit with her husband again. He is one I am positive listens to me. Last time we watched European soccer together.  I will remark that I felt uncomfortable feeding him, although his wife insisted he enjoyed drinking iced coffee from Starbucks.  She demonstrated for me and as I watched I thought to myself it seems to me all you are doing is just pouring it all over his face.  She cleaned him up nicely, explaining to me how much he enjoyed Starbucks iced coffee.  It was a nice time. I do have to reschedule with Lilly my Spanish tutor. She was understanding, insisting she has no problem moving our session to Wednesday. I will bring her two small gifts, a package of black chia seeds and fig wedges from Spain purchased  at BJ Wholesale that were marked down to two dollars. The total cost is only $4.50. It is not for the sake of being cheap, rather honoring the fact she would not find an expensive gift proper. I simply want to express gratitude for her being flexible with scheduling. This is twice now she honored my request for time changes. Both alterations coming at the behest of the Hospice. The last being the incredible experience with Louise. Both the gift items Lilly will thoroughly enjoy since she is a connoisseur of fine healthy foods. I have considered inviting her to attend a cooking class with me at Casa Dolce, however I will not invite her unless I feel a proper moment. I take responsibility for ensuring our interactions together our always respectful of our professional obligation of establishing my Spanish fluency. I perceive God is testing me by placing these two attractive, cultured, and respectful women in my life. As I said yesterday, it is too late in the game for nonsense. The burden is upon me. All for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.

Our Lady Undoer of Knots

Mass at St Paul Shrine today. Cold and rainy, an hour jump ahead for daylight savings, too much work, the day appears as nothing special. Ramona was at Mass. She attends frequently. Praying before the Eucharist standing proud in my favorite monstrance, she sat in the front pew praying intensely. My heart and prayers went out to her. There was no inclination whatsoever to reestablish communication. It is done. May God have mercy upon both our souls. Within my healing through mature fellowship, an immersion in seeing Christ in my brothers and sisters, an understanding emerges and advances–a respect for a higher calling regarding intimacy. Personal one-to-one interaction demands particulars, psychological soundness a staunch mandate. It is too late in the game for nonsense. I am strong in solitude, anchored in the Presence of God. I do not need constant companions due to brokenness. I do not need company because I cannot be alone with God. Frailties cannot be overcome by suffocating within others. Demons only rear their heads. I do welcome others based upon perceived strengthening of spirits. None are permitted close at this time. Jim Nagle and the Man of Prayer are exceptions. Those two I speak with randomly, yet sharing personal thoughts when we do talk. Yesterday was a wonderful, warm, and simple one-to-one with the Man of Prayer in the St Paul Shrine lobby. I shared with him the blessing God bestowed upon me when allowing Louise to come to Him while I held her arm. Louise’s brother told me when she was young she was awkward. She fell down the family stairs twice, never recovering from the falls. She was always mentally slow. He told me their parents sheltered her. The nuns at her Catholic school adored her, passing her even though she could not complete her studies. She never had a boyfriend. Throughout her life, she had two jobs, neither lasting six months. Her older sister by ten years, the one I met, took care of her after their parents died. I am convinced she is a woman who lived a life dominated by fear. She reminds me of the sensitive and adorable character Laura from Tennessee Williams’ play ‘The Glass Menagerie’. The poor thing moaned and cried throughout my first visit. The accompanying Hospice nurse during her passing, her personal nurse, told me that after weeks of being unresponsive, Louise cried out to her ‘I am scared’. Doesn’t anyone reading understand the immense treasure God gave me by allowing me to comfort such a frightened soul. I kept telling her she could not imagine how grateful I was to be with her, how much she meant to me, that my life blossomed greater for spending such precious time with her. I am positive she perceived my sincerity for it was authentic and profound. Louise was too kind to me and I will never forget it. Today during Mass, after receiving communion, returning to my seat, my eyes wandered to those waiting to receive the body of Christ. An image of the cold hard profile of Ann flashed in my mind. It was as strong as if she were standing there. A satanic tint colored her profile, a cursed darkness of mind and spirit standing staring blind. The further I move away, the stronger in the practice of faith and mature fellowship I advance, the more her brokenness becomes apparent. I do not think I could celebrate Mass with her. I considered never returning to the Shrine, yet that is reactionary and short-sighted. Too much has been accomplished there to allow negativity to mold the future. The Poor Clares are too important as well as Father Roger and others. A prayer partner from St Paul Shrine, one who likes Ann, mentioned she always scared her, the woman sensing an intrinsic evil festering within her core. There is nothing to do but pray. I am sure she tries her best. Life is difficult. She battles dark interior forces. All is of God’s doing, minus our misdoing, which is still of His doing within the mystery of creation. God is good and all giving. There is a woman who intrigues me at St Clare. Unromantic, older, she provides distant comfort and support during Mass. Jim Nagle informs me she is a widow, as he describes her a soul out there alone. She sits in front of me, off to the left. Daily, I follow directly behind her to receive communion. She is harsh in her lack of attention, obviously not impressed with me in the slightest degree. I embrace her scrutiny, absorbing her strength, offering her my own. I am positive she is a spiritual equal. I catch her observing and studying me. She does not think much of me. I find comfort in the fact. I make eye contact only when I feel the moment is pertinent, avoiding her during the exchange of peace. Her presence is tangible, while intentionally ignored. I am not sure why I mention her. Analyzing myself, I would determine she embodies the maturity I need from another. She is one, if she determined it necessary, who would be able to nurture. There is no doubt I am being lifted, in my mind being formed for retiring into the cloistered religious life. Few will be able to bolster, while all are viewed as breathing, living, symbols of Christ. I did not mention about the St Clare widow, all that silent strength, a stare that speaks so loudly of an advanced spiritual state of being, is embodied in an elderly woman standing approximately five foot two. Even now, I can see her short stature, a smile instantly blossoming upon my lips. I look forward to sharing Mass with her tomorrow as we march forward toward Easter. The retreat to Massachusetts looms lovingly in simplicity and refinment. A time of doing nothing. Quietly contemplating Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday.