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Showing posts from November, 2005

Memento mori - Remember that you are mortal

Three ways to escape the endless cycle of self-consciousness and neurosis:
Learn a new language.Place yourself in front of something beautiful.Do something purely for the good of another. (and here's the kicker: without them knowing)
Courtesy of Fr. John Blaszek citing an author I forget.

(PS- My kidneys are almost all better, and my sore throat has been replaced with minor scratchiness and a runny nose... almost gone! And I got a bus ride with Carrie out of it, after skipping my usual bike ride.)

My kidneys hurt..

This reminds me of when I had spinal meningitis in college, except I didn't really, just felt like I did. Maybe I wasn't at quite the level of deductive logic that I'm now at, as I insist that my kidneys hurt. As I squeezed into seat A1 of the little puddle-jumper for the first of two legs on my flight home from Charlotte yesterday morning, I pondered the achiness I was feeling in the general vicinity between my knees and chest. My groin muscles had been complaining for a couple days already, after playing some frisbee and football a little too hard. (When I say too hard, I usually mean running too much and dodging too fast... not catching too much nor throwing too accurately.) My younger and bigger brother and I had wandered down to a park, tossed the frisbee, and joined some neighborhood kids/parents in a pickup game of football, plus got to play with somebody's massive Newfie named Molly. Anyway, I was also experiencing some lower back soreness yesterday, whic…

Esse quam videri - To be rather than to seem

I grew up in the Muncie branch of the People of Praise, and among the members is this hilarious lady named Mary Collins. I almost called her "elderly" in trying to describe her to you, but I couldn't bring myself to use that as the first word, because I simply cannot imagine her as old. She is crazy energetic, and when you are speaking with her, you nearly melt under the spotlight of attention and love that she blasts directly at you. When I graduated from high school, she impacted me greatly with a simple little note about noticing that God had been changing me over the past couple years, and assuring me of her daily prayers for me through college. I never really knew any of her family, her husband passed away before my time, and her kids were all grown up and out conquering the world, other than occasional visits home during the holidays.

When I moved up to Chicago, I heard from Mrs. Collins that her son Jim was working at a parish in Chicago and that he'd love …