Today, before work, quality time spent with the St Clare gathering centered upon families. The maturity cleanses and invigorates, refreshing in regards to fellowship. Several of the couples spoke of decades of matrimony. Families, children, grandchildren, in-laws, communities of faith. The husband and wife organizing the event spoke of forty plus years of marriage. I find the environment soothing. A God of order delights in order; structure, community, strength, support, commitment, loyalty, love, imperfection, trials, all within soundness, built upon stability, growth, and nurturing, bringing the best out in one another. We were seated in small groups. Within our group was a couple, grandparents of twelve, sharing their life. Their twelfth grandchild was born afflicted with Down’s syndrome. One of their sons has recently moved into their home with two of his children, girls of five and seven. Life presents its challenges, yet they endure as a couple, pillars of faith for their children and grandchildren. It is not talk. It is living. This was an exceptional crowd. Towards the end of the gathering, after lunch, the air went out of my enthusiasm. It was not negative, rather a grounding in neutrality. It was presented to me that the group is Charismatic in practice. The subject of speaking in tongues offered as a gift to pursue. It dawned on me that the passion of the group was talking in tongues. I have just never acquired any interest in the Charismatic movement.  I relate matters to Mary and her preoccupation with visions. The supernatural, the extreme, the out of the ordinary, contains no attraction for me.  I recall a priest remarking that St John of the Cross expressed concern that Saint Teresa of Avila placed too much importance upon her extra-ordinary experiences. There is nothing there, a lack of interest present within my prayer disposition. I am positive if God wanted me to pursue such an avenue, I would possess at least curiosity. I have a great interest in learning about God. I recognize it as a blessing. There is honestly nothing there in regards to the Charismatic movement. I relate it to denominational debate and apologetics. I have no interest, not even a passing fancy. Again, I point to the wisdom of the ‘Arise’ principles and guidelines, a mature approach to faith gatherings. During my recent breakfast with Jim Nagle, he asked me a question. Let’s examine it. What if God bluntly approached you, declaring you made it, you were bound for heaven. He would offer a deal, a choice how to live your life. Either choice would be blessed. First choice: you would be established as a religious authority, a writer of books, a sought after speaker, a public leader of the Catholic Church, effecting the lives of many. Or the second choice: you would remain hidden, living your difficult trying life, receiving no attention for your advanced faith, no promises whatsoever except that your humility and choice would open the doors of purgatory. It is an interesting examination of conscience. The more profound choice is obvious, yet the lives of many declare a different mindset. Anyway typed this during lunch at work. I am out of time. Final note. I am so enamored with this group, as people, that if they pursue me I will respond.

Breakfast with Jim Nagle, introducing him to Casa Dolce after a St Clare mass. Our relationship elevates within a return from his New York City excursion and my passionate pursuit of a mature community of faith. Conversation advances beyond initial engagements. God demands growth. Yesterday a four hour bedside vigil, followed by an after work hour of prayer, time with another Catholic Hospice patient–prayers abounding with a special lady, fully present, aware to the best of my abilities at that moment. God shapes and forms, working within privacy and silence. I shared a text exchange with my son’s mother. It started with a focus upon her daughter, Stephanie, a woman less than ten years in age of myself. Through inspiration arising during mass, I put together a Catholic prayer package: Rosary, St Louis de Montfort’s ‘Secrets of the Rosary’, Our Lady Undoer of Knots novena booklet, Divine Mercy prayer guides, and various prayer cards. The prayer package will be shipped to Stephanie, my son’s older stepsister. Though years have created severe distance, we were close at one time. I always recall a specific time when she was a teenager. She went swimming with the boys and I. The boys were approximately five and six. She was a teenager. She emerged from the swimming changing room in a bathing suit embarrassingly and obviously too small for her. She was becoming a woman, her body maturing dramatically. I called her over and instantly realized she was lost. Interiorly, she was still a little girl. I said nothing, indirectly addressing an awkward moment with silent attention, giving her my t-shirt, telling her to go swim with her brothers. She covered up with the shirt and ran off immersed within innocence, delighted to join her fun-loving younger siblings. Now she is in rehab, fresh out of prison for the second time, attempting once more to make sense out of life. My son driving her from prison to the rehab, the impression she made on him, imprints upon me. I send the prayer package, mentioning her in prayer to Our Holy Mother. I have taken to holding hands with the Mary statue at the St Clare Adoration Chapel. She stands slightly above, holding her hands downward, inviting upward, the Immaculate Conception, a replica of a vision from younger days. I place my hands in her’s, releasing, accepting frailties, acknowledging imperfections, pleading the obvious, today mentioning Stephanie. Please Holy Mother, do not refuse my petitions. Anyway, back to the text exchange with Gina, the mother of my son. We expanded upon her reaction to my using the term ‘incredible’ to describe my Hospice experiences, relating them to her husband’s experience as a medical doctor working with Hospice patients. Let’s explore.

I see Bob each day after he comes home from hospice. He sees families and such grief, spouses devastated, crying because they’re losing their love ones. He had to make a decision on Sunday because he had a patient who was young and was diagnosed with lung cancer just in December. In these few months, it spread to his bones. He was in so much pain and dying. His wife and son were standing there trying to comfort him to the point Bob had to do make a decision whether or not to give him more morphine, knowing it would ease his pain but also end his life. It weighs on Bob hard especially knowing he has cancer himself. I’ve done and home hospice care when I was younger and I know people when they Passover most are peaceful but I always saw the grief with the families,that to this day sticks with me. I understand like when my father passed away he was in my arms I knew he was sorry about mistakes in his life. I understand like when my father passed away he was in my arms I knew he was OK. It was peaceful, angelic, but even Bob was waiting for me to loose it. I know my father is OK. Bobs sees death on a daily bases but I think when children and families are involved and kids and spouses are crying, it hits those memories of his childhood when his father died on his mom’s birthday, amazingly Christmas Eve. His father was forty-eight, leaving his mother with six young kids. As Daibers, recognizing there stubborn stifling toughness, I don’t think they ever properly grieved. The whole family festers in unresolved heartbreak. Death haunts Bob’s life. Bob found his brother Joe when he died from esophageal cancer. He has had such personal loss. Plus when he almost died, his own close encounter with death in front of Sophie. His own daughter had to rush him to the hospital. He feared dying in front of his daughter as his father died in front of him. I just see Bob as wonderful, a compassionate doctor. That’s rare but I think inside its hard on him. When it comes to similar situations.

I responded to her lengthy text.

It all is to nurture love. I am convinced I am called to this as it increases faith and trust. I would say God ask this of Bob to strengthen and draw him closer. All is in God’s hands. Nice thoughts. Thank you. God never ask more than what is good for eternity.

A final text, hours later, before entering the hour of Hospice prayer after work.

The ‘incredible’ part is the experience of God, a continuation of my spiritual life, daily mass, prayer before the Eucharist, a continual devotion to God. Working with the dying, praying with them, is ‘incredible’ in the sense that it deepens my love for God. If it is not about God, it is of no use. It is an aspect of my life within the absolute and absorbing entirety of dedicating my life to God.

Painting replica posted on the wall of latest Hospice patient. Another special one, a blessing. God is good and all giving. The painting is by Juan Flandes, a Flemish painter active in Spain during the turning of the fifteenth into the sixteenth century. The link is from the Madrid museum hosting the original painting.