Yesterday, I wrote a post, losing it while transferring between phone apps and a battery draining. I interpret it as the will of God. Maybe I am right and maybe I am wrong. The day proved eventful as I called off work in order to visit with my family in Toledo. My sister conducted a cookout in order to celebrate visiting family members from Spain, newlyweds. The lost post centered upon morning activities and personal reflections at that time. Relevancy persists, yet I will now, a day later, recreate in a different frame of mind. I celebrated Mass at the Jennings Center, the attending philosophical Indian priest conducting Mass. Afterwards the retired priest I visit with extended a personal blessing. During Mass, the interconnectedness of all souls emerged as a reality. We are not in this alone. God’s tapestry is a unified coalescing of beauty, wonder, mystery, and suffering. I made my way to the second floor in order to meet with a special friend who has taken a severe turn for the worst. Following a nurse changing dressings, the friend tried to acknowledge me, yet I told her to be at peace, to forgo the effort and simply repose. It was a matter of seconds before she fell into sleep. Leaving the Jennings Center, a bedside vigil presented itself. The patient passed away during the visit. The visit was a bit awkward as the man shared a room with another. The other watched a classical TV station, blaring the western shows from the fifties: ‘Bonanza’ and ‘Gunsmoke’. The loudness was disconcerting. An attendant with the man passing away informed me the daughter’s wish was the man did not pass away alone. He was not alone, and now in prayer he resides for the strengthening of my own soul. It is an honor and a gift of receiving to be placed by God in such a blessed situation. The unraveling, the deconstruction of my spiritual life continues. A significant other persists in becoming an embodiment of love, an internal longing stripping back layers, revealing personal inadequacies and deficiencies. The areas I need to strengthen become pronounced, making aware the reality I am human. I embrace the sidestepping of spiritual arrogance, the need to be perceived as a spiritual authority after years of dedication and pursuit. I am simply a broken man, recovering, trying to learn to love another. The significant other refines in ways that are painful, allowing God’s scalpel to cut away at the unconscious. I have hidden behind religion. I have hidden behind the façade of being a writer. Private personal fantasies have blinded, forcing me into crevices and corners, reducing me to delusion and dependency upon prayer not for the glorification of God, rather the need to overcome a lowered self-esteem. Further healing is necessary in order to advance. I am convinced a significant other is presented to commence in a restorative unified sharing. Soothingly, while a bit abrasive, a new challenge presents itself. I am enamored with the ease in which the significant other shares in socializing. Together we are natural, at ease amongst others. Already, my family requests her presence. Friends from St Paul Shrine made a point to call me over to them during Sunday’s post-Mass coffee and donuts, imploring to know where she was. We attended the family cookout with another friend from St Paul Shrine, a woman from El Salvador who just returned from a trip to Portugal, Spain, and France. It was a simple, unpretentious, enjoyable endeavor. During the drive home, at night enduring a downpour driving on the Ohio Turnpike, the three of us prayed a Rosary together. The Hispanic woman reciting portions in Spanish. Marvelous, melodic, and efficacious, it proved beautiful.
