Sunday, November 13, 2022


Mid-November holds some yearly "markers" so to speak. One you see above: the cacti in the library are blooming, their first of the season. This light pink one is probably 35 years old; there's a beautiful white one that is a little younger and a yellow one which is quite a bit younger, as it started from a single leaf from Sr. Benedict's plant, the first yellow cactus I had ever seen. 

Secondly is snow. This weekend we awoke to our first covering of snow on the grass. It was wet, very wet, but enough to turn the yard white. I think it will qualify as more than "a trace" and therefore we will have a winner in our first snow contest: When will the first snow come? Next week I'll put out the second contest: How many inches will we get this season? A gift card awaits the winner of each.

In the course of four days last week, I visited with two close friends who are both on a terminal cancer journey. Both of the visits were very, very nice, dinner with one and lunch with the other. I found out that the actual visiting was not difficult per se, but the days after...whoa! The ideas, the memories, the thoughts, the mystery of it all, are insidious...they creep around, unawares, yet just under the surface. They  come out at night, at prayer, in a crowd, by yourself...any time and anywhere. I find myself tearing up listening to a song in the car or reading a poignant paragraph in a book, The reality doesn't seem to smack you in the face every minute, it's more like a constantly lingering knowledge, an ever-present companion---quiet in many ways, but never, never too far away. Please remember these two lovely people in your prayers, as we all do for each other at these times.

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