Paris, August 2011

Bob Dylan, Brigitte Bardot, Sam Elliot, Sophia Loren, Leonard Cohen... What do these people have in common with Paris?

Although old, there's still a lot of tangible sexiness abounding. A certain quality that intices you. It's like a brand new love affair. You want to be loved back, you want to discover new things every day, you can't wait to wake up and see that person again.

I haven't been here long, but I've learned a lot, just by watching and letting the sensory overload of this city take control.

So many things I've noticed.

There's an abundance of overt acts of physical attraction here. Lots of people kissing. In parks, on the subway, on the streets. It's not something I think I've ever seen in any other city.

On a Sunday Afternoon, praying for the poor souls

On a Sunday Afternoon praying for the Poor Souls

In the process of doing some volunteer newsletter work and trying to find a last name for an article I bounced back to my blog.

It's been almost a year and a half since I last wrote anything! And in that time, I've travelled all over Europe with family, got a new job, helped my parents transition into new housing, visited my son and his new girlfriend back east, and tried to continue to journey closer to Christ.

This is the month of November, and my November Prayer for the Souls in Purgatory is taped to my desk (which is a mess today by the way) I am trying to pray for them every day this month.

I think of all the people that are no longer on earth, but very much part of my life. Those people who have in large and small ways, helped me to become the person that I am.

My uncle Paddy who's concern for the poor and downtrodden never ever stopped him from standing up for them. I wish he was with me today. His fire and zeal taught me to never be afraid to help, to aid justice. 

My aunt Joyce, Paddy's wife, who's absolute beauty was inside and out a shining example of joy. Just thinking about her makes me smile. My sister Shelley is very much like her.

My friend Ellie Kohut. She taught me the beautiful face of forgiveness and the wonderful power of hope. Her answer to my question "How are you today Ellie" was always, "Not too, bad, God Thanks". I miss her all the time. I miss her smile, her hope, her powerful forgiving nature. She was so very tiny, but her spirit was so very big. Oh how I miss her.

My friend Rod (George Rodney Atchison) One of the last things he said to me, was that we'd be friends all his life. It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. He was such a good friend. We spent hours and hours talking about life, and love and about Jesus. Whenever I stand at the left of the altar and look over the congregation, I hope that he is in his regular seat, right at the front, beside the choir, where he was happiest, listening to Father Mario and his homilies. May God grant him that joy. 

I want to continue to be good in order to see Ellie and Rod in heaven one day. I know that they are at the very least on their way there.

My friends Ziggy and John Holt. They both died suddenly, going over cliffs. I have this great fear of driving on mountain roads. It probably happened after their deaths. I should not have fear when God is with me. Its rational, and yet, not rational. They were a blessing to me, because they just loved me for being me. They trusted me and I trusted them. You couldn't have had better friends than either of them. At least, they were good to me.

Norman and Marcel Poirier. Two brothers who lived life so BIG. They were so young when they left this world. Marcel died suddenly in a motorcycle accident, Norman by a quickly moving cancer. They both taught me to capture every day and to not be afraid to learn something new. 

Every day we grow closer to that moment when we are released from this mortal coil and move towards our forever-ness. I know that the past 15 years has led me to a relationship with God that I never thought was possible, or real, or so full.

This relationship consumes me, convicts me, gives me such great hope. And sometimes, in a period of spiritual dryness, a longing so deep that every day my soul cries out for Jesus and the company of those saints and their help in finding Him again. I know that I will find Him in the quiet, in the seconds and moments between words, not in the words.

My loved ones, who are not physically with me, are with me in the company of saints, I pray. In this special month, they are somehow mystically closer than ever. I thank God for this grace.