that we should at all times, and in all places, give thanks unto thee, O LOrd, Holy Father, Almighty, Everlasting God.
I don't know about you guys, but I am drowning in all the wonderful stuff being posted all over about our beloved holy father, John Paul the Great. I fully expect him to be names a Doctor of the Church, if only for his Theology of the Body. I haven't said much myself because of all the other stuff that is out there. Try some of these blogs (links in the blogroll) - Flos Carmeli, Apologia, Bettnet, Some Have Hats, even Nathan's blog have well written and reasoned commentary. What more can I say?
One big regret I have is that I didn't make the effort to see the Pope when he was in Los Angeles. I generally tend to stay away from big crowd events. So I missed out on some potential graces there. I am glad that I sent at least one of my kids to a World Youth Day.
About 3 weeks ago (yet it seems aeons) I re-read Morris West's book The Shoes of the Fisherman. It was first published when I was in grade school, and I read it at the time in the Reader's Digest Condensed books version (My mom subscribed and I usually devoured them when they hit the front door. She was lucky if she got to them before I did.)
I read it and was thinking about posting a set of comments on it, especially on how prophetic it truly was. And then the world intruded. We had the murder of Terri Schiavo, the dying and death of the Pope, and I haven't had the heart to do a lot of writing. I'm still having trouble.
This weekend, my husband is part of the team for Cursillo. In a few hours, I will be in my car headed for another part of the state to give a talk on NFP for marriage prep. These are things that were committed to earlier, and they are important. But there is a part of me that just wants to curl up and grieve and do nothing. Somehow, I think that the Holy Father would tell me to get up and get going. Step into the deep. Be not afraid.
John Paul II, pray for me!