I am so sorry that I haven’t blogged in an entire
week. No matter how busy I have been in the past, I managed to post something
for my faithful few. On Monday, I received the first round of edits on my
manuscript, so I spent every moment possible pouring over it, accepting changes
or making new changes of my own. This seems to be the most stressful part of
publishing for me, getting every word just exactly right. But enough of my
excuses, here are new words, some of which need lots of editing.
When I was in my second year
of college, my friend and I went to her sister’s house in Rochester, Minnesota,
for spring break. I know. Who goes to Minnesota on spring break? Starving
college kids on a tight budget.
My friend’s brother drove us.
We woke that Saturday morning to snow, of course, because I live in Wisconsin
and I was heading to Minnesota. Why would the weather not be horrible. By
mid-day, as we were one-third of the way to our destination, the snow had
started to cause a whiteout on the highway. We were crawling along, only
guessing that we were still on the road, snow blowing everywhere. We decided we
needed to stop.
We pulled into the city of
Chippewa Falls and the first hotel (perhaps the only hotel) in town was the
Indianhead Motel. We got one room. Remember we were all starving college
students. I believe my friend’s brother was in veterinary school at the time.
Anyway, yes I spent the night in a hotel room with a guy, who was in the other
bed, while my friend and I slept in the second bed. Except I didn’t sleep; I
was too scared coz there was a man I hardly knew just ten feet away. Even though I was twenty years old at the time, I was nearly as pure as the driven snow outside.
Anyway, why this story now. I
was at a meeting on Thursday over past Chippewa Falls. On the way home, when I
got to that point in the trip, I thought it was time to stop for something to
eat. I’ve been through this town many times. The highway used to go right
through town and only what seems a few years ago did they finish the bypass.
I took the exit ramp. The
roads had changed, the strip mall just outside of town was nearly deserted.
Even Wendy’s was closed up. The Indianhead Motel however was still there and
though they didn’t have the “no vacancy” sign out, they had business.
Just then Neil Diamond came
on my radio. I know, you are thinking Neil Diamond, seriously? Seriously. The
night we had been stranded at the Indianhead, we had watched “The Jazz Singer”
with Neil Diamond on TV.
I looked up the hill on the
east side of town, to the steeple of the Catholic Church. Really? God, you want me to go up there. Apparently He did.
It was getting late in the
day, and was dreary. The rain had stopped, but the clouds still hung heavy. I turned the car to the right and climbed the hill to the church.
My friend’s family was devote
Catholics. That night we spent in town, when the snow had abated around
supper-time, someone consulted a pamphlet in the hotel room and found that mass
would be starting soon. The three of us piled back into the car and headed up
the hill.
I never knew until this
Thursday what the name of that church was. Notre Dame. I wandered the grounds
in the fading light, taking pictures and wondering why I had been sent up here.
I sighed and returned to my car. I still had a two-hour drive ahead of me.
Friday morning, October 4,
which happens to be our anniversary, I went on-line to find out more about the
Notre Dame Church of Chippewa Falls. The first thing that jumped out at me was
that it was St. Francis of Assisi day.
You probably have picked up
by now that I am not Catholic. I have a lot of friends who are, so I know a
little about their faith. I know about, but don’t understand, their allegiance to the
saints. A lot of their saints are pretty obscure. (For example, who has been a
follower of St. Bruno?)
I think, though, that most of
us have heard of Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals and nature. Also,
the guy that our current pope honored by taking his name. And so, it was after
sixteen years of marriage, that I discovered that the date we chose is the
feast day of this saint.
I think there is more to the
story, but I need to wait on God’s time to find out what it is. So please stay
tuned.
Lord, make me an
instrument of Your peace;
Where there is hatred, let
me sow love;
Where there is injury,
pardon;
Where there is error, the
truth;
Where there is doubt, the
faith;
Where there is despair,
hope;
Where there is darkness,
light;
And where there is
sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, Grant
that I may not so much seek
To be consoled, as to
console;
To be understood, as to
understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that
we receive;
It is in pardoning that we
are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we
are born to eternal life.
(Called the prayer of St.
Francis, but history is pretty sure he never wrote it)
