Another Sunday free from employment ending with a fireplace blazing. The roar of the flames reminds me of Vermont and the Carthusian cell. More chores around the home, settling into the idea it is mine to transform. With the conclusion of home improvements, I ventured to Momo’s, a favorite restaurant, a Moroccan splendor, a quaint eatery with the finest of host and chef. Momo does it all, waits and buses tables, assists in the cooking—a highly certified chef, although his wife handles most of the labor, and utmost his humble sincere charm provides pleasant fellowship. It was a delight to learn that today is the second anniversary of opening his restaurant. I admire his motivation to provide an intimate dining experience at a reasonable price, setting out a minimal amount of tables, while occupying the front of his restaurant with lounging couches for traditional dining and tea drinking—Moroccan tea a lovely green tea with natural mint flavoring. Momo always takes the time to sincerely find out what has been going on in the lives of his regulars. I was humbled by the attention he showered today with all his tables full. He is the only one to wait tables. Momo is a joy to encounter. It was the second agreeable eating experience of the day. After Mass at St Paul Shrine, I lunched with a larger party of Sunday regulars, a crowd I am growing more and more comfortable with. Once again, the men, for the most part, situated themselves at one end of the setting, with the woman gathering at the other. Father Sam and one other man, slowed by severe arthritis, occupied the furthest end of the table, the end closest to the door, the women placed between them and us chattering bunch of men. Lawyer Jim attended this gathering, and per usual he dominated and led the conversation. His knowledge of Cleveland is immense and he enjoys sharing with me since he knows I am newer to the city. The luncheon was held at the Harp restaurant, an Irish establishment located on the near west side, situated near the lake. Jim pointed out the water filtering plant visible from our vantage point, explaining elaborately the expansive system providing water for the city. His office was located downtown and I assume his professional duties were tied to knowing the happenings of the city. The fellowship soothes comfortably. I appreciated the lack of inquiries regarding the significant other. Many of the gathered admire her so I am sure they were curious. Assisting the gentleman with arthritis out to his car, he did privately ask about her. He lives not too far from her and it was obvious he was charmed by her. I told him we were taking a mutually agreed upon separation. He made sure to halt his struggles to walk with his walker in order to express how much he enjoyed socializing with us as a couple, never impeding upon impropriety. I expressed how much I admired and enjoyed her myself. The situation coalesced with my musings during Mass, the natural direction my mind wandered during the sacred ceremony. Confidence roared as grace elevated my disposition when I considered the two relationships I have been involved in during my time in Cleveland. Within my imperfections and shortcomings, a certainty dominated that I had handled matters honorably. I had pursued authentically the Catholic principle of courting, providing a capable man able to love, provide, and be strong–able to be a good Catholic husband. The grace that carried over after Mass, providing no conclusions, allowed me to grasp the graciousness of God, the healing provided within both relationships. God is good and all giving. Maybe that was all God wanted me to draw from them, before asking for my heart in total dedication to Him. They served to make me a stronger man of God, even considering the low and difficult points. The path God opens to the future I feel no need to speculate upon, happy to enjoy the day free from work.
The one and only Momo.
