Last summer I got a big, fat book. I started it while I was on vacation at the beach.
Every morning I study a few pages of this particular book. I am only about halfway through.
This morning I held the book in my hands, and I remembered the day when I started reading:
The warm sun was sweetly baking my SPF-15-protected skin. The light was perfect for reading through sunglasses. The waves were lapping in from Europe. It was heaven…
…I have a pair of cufflinks which I bought to remind myself of the beach. They have little sailboats on them.
Here is my vow to you: I am going to wear these sailboat cufflinks every day until the official National Airport temperature hits 70 degrees Fahrenheit…
…Listen: If you missed Sunday Mass because of bad weather, please remember that your pastor needs the monetary offering that you would have given.
God is good to me.
I say this not just because the Geogetown Hoyas are 5-0, having trounced the Mount last night, even more thoroughly than they did a year ago.
I say it not just because He makes the sun rise in the morning and the moon at night.
I say it not just because maybe some day I will be able to go to jail for refusing to let two grooms use our church hall for their “reception.”
(By the by, our old friend had the guts to vote against the madness today).
No. The reason I praise God is that He has brought together two events in my life in such a way that I could never have asked for something so wonderful.
For me, there are two kinds of days on the calendar. There is December 8, and then there are all the other days.
December 8 is the day when the Garden of Eden was restored to the earth, the day when the flower of mankind bloomed again.
I am the happy slave of the Lady conceived on December 8.
For me, the days leading up to December 8 are special holy days of prayer and closeness to the Immaculata.
It just so happens that during the Immaculate Conception Novena this year, Archbishop Wuerl is going to come to my church and renew my consecration as a priest, when he installs me as the parish pastor this Sunday.
I am unworthy of such good timing–to be able to give myself again to the priesthood during the days when I first gave myself to the Blessed Mother as a slave.
May our Lady make good use of me. She is a gentle mistress.