My dad was devoted to St. Pio of Pietrelcina, and St. Pio was devoted to prayer.
Today, on his feast day, I remember Pop, and offer you this brief prayer composed by Padre Pio:
May Jesus comfort you
in all your afflictions.
May He sustain you in dangers,
watch over you always with His grace,
and indicate the safe path
that leads to eternal salvation.
And may He render you
always dearer to His Divine Heart
and always more worthy of Paradise. Amen.
It’s no news that I don’t like pets, and yet, this silly dog has managed to break down that barrier and endear himself to me. There is no goofier dog than Otis. And no goofier master than me.
I love to see him run, full out, when he gets a wild hair and does laps around the yard.
Every part of his being is in this run, and it’s a joy to watch, especially when he leaps. He must think he’s a race horse jumping hurdles. Or Michael Jordan defying gravity on his way to a lay up. It’s just amazing to watch him soar through the air, fly, and then land without missing his momentum — around again, and again, until he stops and throws himself on the ground at my feet, spent.
I should embrace my own projects with the same singular commitment to run — run hard — until I’m spent. And then allow myself to rest a bit before getting up and doing it again.
I need endurance. Perseverance. Steadfastness.
I got out of my car and freaked out a little bit because I had the feeling that my neighbor’s gigantic pine trees were cracking and falling down. Let me tell you how creepy that was — the trees are very tall, and falling branches around here kill people.
I looked up, trying to scan the tree tops for the offending branch getting ready to annihilate me, when I caught sight of the culprit.
This is the biggest, baddest woodpecker I have ever seen. And he was going to town on the branch. Going to town.
I admire his tenacity. Peck peck peck. Going to town.
I’m inspired to get back to my keyboard and do the same. Peck peck peck.
