Tiredly dragging myself to an early Monday morning Mass, barely making it on time, inspiration appeared. The Mass is conducted in a side chapel. In the main darkened church, an elderly man was finishing his walk of the Stations of the Cross. Another sat silent in a pew. An elderly woman, seated in a secluded space, prayed a Rosary. The magnificence of the Church, the ability to inspire prayer, hope, and the glorification of God overwhelmed my lethargic stupor. God is good and all giving. Do all good people go to heaven? I am not sure. I know some bad ones make it. Today is the feast day of Mary Magdalene, and let’s not forget the thief on the Cross.

Silence, repetition, establishing a design for daily living, I decided to make a late evening biographic entry. A remarkable Godly moment during Mass, and also a lively moment within the natural realm, marked today. A beautiful sunny day, temperatures in the eighties, I enjoyed a long ride on my Trek touring bicycle. Riding fast on a subdivision street, a fairly large blur in my side-vision and the sound of rushing announced a chasing dog targeting me. Looking back, I identified the fact a pit bull of decent size would soon be upon my heels. I raised my legs in the air to give the dog nothing to latch onto. I scolded the dog, only to be surprised by the return canine expression. The dog disarmed me with a smile, and sheer exultation to be running with me. Biting me was not her intent. I placed my feet upon my pedals, informing her that her idea of fun was a bit startling. She ran alongside with a power and grace that could only be admired. She ran hard and with everything she had. Her owner came up behind us in a van, telling her to go home, and another screaming from the yard ordered her to get home. She gave me a look before turning back. I could only smile. Her owner in the van asked if I was ok. I responded that once we met eyes. it was obvious she was friendly, only wanting to run and play, however I admitted she did give me quite a fright at first. The moment made a lasting impression. I almost feel I made a friend. The Mass moment involved a Homily and The Imitation of Christ. In a previous post, I quoted the Imitation of Christ, Book 1—Chapter 24. I was guided to the reading through the biography: ‘St Louis De Montfort: The Story of Our Lady’s Slave’ by Mary Fabyan Windeatt. The Imitation of Christ reading, amongst many, was assigned by St Louis De Montfort to the young Maria Louise Trichet. Today with a friend, we deep-dived the particular Imitation of Christ reading, spending a great deal time on the idea: ‘…when he (the patient man) does frequent violence to himself and tries to bring the body into complete subjection to the spirit…’ What did it mean to do violence to one’s self? Then during the homily at Holy Rosary in Little Italy, the evening Mass, the priest introduced the idea of warring against sin. Wonderfully, he advanced his ideas with the dramatic thought that battling sin needed to be elevated to the level of doing violence to ourselves. He stressed the aspect of violence in order to efficiently combat sin, broadening the idea with the fact that an addict, one habitually entrenched in a particular sin, must wage extreme efforts upon himself to rid himself of deep-rooted sin. Stunned, I listened to the priest expand upon the exact idea, verbiage identical, I had explored only hours before Mass. What does it mean to do violence upon one’s self in this life, in order to face Christ properly at its end?

The hound of heaven.

Potter’s Clay

…we can give them up for a better way—the divine way. We must learn to “do nothing gracefully” so that the Lord, our Love, will be free to stretch our hearts and our minds to embrace infinity. If we can believe that this is really what is happening, then we can be graceful “without anxiety”—as John says. We can learn to be at home in the dark because we are sure, in faith,

that the potter is truly shaping the clay, even though the clay sees nothing of what is happening. Then our dryness is no longer desolation because we are not anxious, fearful, troubled by the dark. In fact, we come to love the dark because we realize that the Light is very close and that experience of darkness is the only sure way to the eternal vision we so greatly desire. Nor would we rush the potter, since we begin to realize that the vessel he is shaping is intended to last for eternity. In fact, we find the need to pray more, not to experience His presence now. but to give Him all the time we can to shape the vessel into which He will delight to pour His love.

Source Unknown

A new home, an apartment moved into. Everything is brand new: carpeting, blinds, refrigerator, oven, air conditioner—a landlord who believes in investing in his property. Cleanliness and freshness made a part of daily living. Touring many potential abodes, I instantly felt peace entering the selected address. The location is convenient for the pursuit of faith. I am right next door to St Anthony of Padua church and right across the street from the Holy Family Hospice. Both conduct daily Masses, with St Anthony celebrating two. Holy Family’s time is 10 AM, perfect for my schedule. A Rosary is prayed before every Mass, a devout following attending. I am a volunteer for the facility, however my duties have been extremely minimal, time and circumstance not allowing. Thy Will be done. The quality of the home inspires toward settling and decorating. I am putting together a canvas montage of thirty of my photos, various sizes ranging around an 8” by 8” format, individually matted—unframed. The photos will adorn one wall. It has been enriching to explore through photos taken. God is good and all giving.

In darkness and shadows, the Light overwhelms, cessation,
Bless me with the wisdom Lord,
To perceive within all the events of my life Your LOVE!

I have ventured away from posting. WordPress changed the editing software and I did not take to the changes. I did not even try. I found the detachment beneficial. Many changes, many happenings, I am comfortable detailing nothing personal. Father Roger has returned to Tanzania. I figured out how to resort to WordPress’s classic editor, pleased to return to what I know. Enough is enough. St Francis of Assisi: “Start by doing what is necessary, then what is possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible.”