Of Late

The week before last was a challenging one at work. The most challenging, in fact, in several years. It was not pleasant, not fun, and above all, tiring. Sunday came and I argued with myself as I began waking up in the burrito of blankets my bed had become... to go to liturgy or to sleep? To travel the 68 blocks or to stay put? My need to connect with people outside of work got the upper hand and off I went.

I got there and sat on the opposite side from where I usually do. I was choosing good, deliberate, company. But, as I have written before, I was first alone. For about five minutes. Then a woman approached to tell me that she loved the way I proclaim the Word. She always wishes I'd just keep on telling the story and not stop at the end of the reading. That was gratifying! A shot in the limp, tired arm. I went into the back and was stopped by a member of the choir who asked me if I was aware of the Spirit moving through me when I proclaimed and he just had to thank me and thank God for sharing my gift so freely.

When I left, the priest who'd presided stopped me, saying "You have a pensive look...like you could take on the world and challenge it with wisdom."

Yesterday I got a call from someone inviting me to preside at a reconciliation service in March. Today, a woman told me that there was only one other person she'd ever heard who so inhabited the Word when she was proclaiming.

I also saw evidence this past week that the students really do listen and attend when we pray as a school community during morning meetings. Lo, things do sink in...even those things not overtly taught but rather simply modeled.

I am in the midst of this confluence, pen in hand, asking "What, my friend, are you saying to me?" Not on the surface, but in the freshness deep down.

Can't wait to find out.