I love a gloomy day every once in a while. It keeps the glorious sunny days fresh — I can’t appreciate the beauty of a sunny day if I don’t have its contrast.
But to be fair — I could say the same about the sunny days — they help me appreciate the beauty of an overcast or rainy day. I love a good storm. I love the monochromatic colorless day that, in its rarity, sparkles in a natural black and white filter.
I love to put on a ridiculous outfit of fuzzy socks, sweatpants, and flannel shirt, the more mismatched the better, and run a pot of coffee or brew a pot of tea, and sit somewhere near the gray light and read. Or pray. Or write. Or all of it, to the soothing soundtrack of a soft rain.
casually reading with a side of espresso pretending to be anything but a tourist
I should have staged this picture of me reading When Life Gives You Pears: The Healing Power of Family, Faith, and Funny People with St. Peter’s Basilica in the background or the amazing blue water of the Aegean Sea as we cruised through the Greek Islands. Instead, you get a real moment of downtime when I was in fact reading Jeannie Gaffigan’s harrowing and inspiring memoir about her medical and spiritual journey after discovering a pear-sized tumor in her brain stem.
Who takes this book on a mediterranean vacation? It’s not exactly lite reading for a cruise. And yet, it was just the right thing to bring along. First of all, I was looking forward to reading it, and that’s good enough for any time. I’m a fan of her work, and last year when Catholic Twitter blew up with the news of her tumor, I added my prayers to the mix.
What a blessing to be able to read about the happy ending of those prayers. Jeannie not only survived the surgery and the subsequent life-threatening illness that followed, but her family survived the experience with grace.
More than anything, it seems to me the story Jeannie tells is a story about grace. How circumstances and situations lined up just right to set into motion events and people who would save her life, and along the way, I think, strengthen her family in ways that faith often does. Sure, we get the details about that pear squeezing her brains, but we also get a vulnerable and intimate look into what happens when we give our suffering and fears to the Lord and trust in him.
Jeannie’s story is inspiring. It’s laugh out loud funny at times. But make no mistake, it’s a profound lesson in taking the lemons pears that life throws at us, and turn them into something beautiful. It was just the right thing to bring with me on my pilgrimage — and an opportunity to round out those first prayers for the Gaffigans by once again bringing them up in prayer, this time of thanksgiving, at some of the holy sites we visited.
the old siding is removed and reveals original cypress siding
Our lovely little church is in the early days of a restoration project that will probably take a long time to complete. The building is old, but not as old as the parish — a parish comprised of people who have lived in this community for many generations and passed their faith to subsequent generations, and newcomers like me who are drawn equally to the beauty of the area and its fascinating history.
The building is in disrepair and in need of some TLC. Luckily, it is structurally sound. It has good bones. A strong foundation. Although the number of parishioners has dwindled over time — some moving away, many dying after having lived full lives here, and still others who have slowly fallen away from the faith in which they were raised — this iconic building has stood, and continues to stand.
The church is in the heart of the community, but the Church is the community, the people, the faithful, the believers who gather weekly to worship, to celebrate the Eucharist, to profess our faith.
Pastors have come and gone, but the faithful have been constant. They have been…faithful. And Jesus has been ever faithful to His bride.
St. Joseph and the Child Jesus
I pondered these things as I sat in the shadows of an empty church. I didn’t turn on the lights even though it was overcast, opting to sit by the window. As I gathered my things to leave, I happened to look out the window and noticed the rough exposed siding that desperately needs to be sanded and painted, and became overwhelmed by the amount of work that needs to be done. I thought of our little parish but thought also of the Church at large.
As I started to feel dejected and sad at the enormity of this need, the sun peeked out from behind a cloud and illuminated the inside of the church just a little bit. Just enough for the statue of St. Joseph to come out of the shadows. Faithful St. Joseph, who didn’t leave Mary in her time of need. Silent St. Joseph, who listened to God. Obedient St. Joseph, who followed God’s will.
Powerful St. Joseph, Patron of the Universal Church. Pray for us.
