A Flippin' Epiphany

 

Sunday Evening

9/17/2023

It’s been a while since I last attended a Mass. Shame on me? Not really shame on me. I’ve been on the road a lot and doing some recreational things.

Twenty-five minutes to the church in town or make a pilgrimage to Daphne for Mass and to see our dear Padre Johnny. Padre Johnny was our mentor when Shirli and I made that huge transition of entering into the Catholic Church in 2007 after all our years as Protestants. He also performed our Catholic wedding. I’ve not seen Padre in a few years. The last time was in Mobile. We occasionally drove over for Saturday evening Mass. The last time I saw him, Shirli and I saw him together.

It was an easy decision to make, though I knew it stood a great chance of evoking a lot of emotion. But, going to the church in town always evokes a lot of emotion. And for good reason.

I really benefitted from seeing Padre Johnny. In fact, I met him in the foyer of the church when I walked in. He looks good. His homilies draw you in and arrest you. His so very reverent manner at the Altar adds so much dignity to the Holy Occasion. Just the beauty of it all loosed waves of emotion. A flood of memories of our journey together into the Catholic Church washed over me. I had to pull out my bandana. More than once. It was all so beautiful.

As we shook hands afterward as I was walking out, I mentioned to Padre Johnny that I would really like to sit down with him one day and just talk. He told me to get up with him. I told him I would then made my way out the door and to Fred parked in the shade of a Live Oak.

Walking along, I couldn’t help but to think … that talk will likely never happen.

That’s really the way it is these days in this unfolding life-transition that’s been flung upon me. There are so many people that I would like to see again and spend time with in conversation. What’s the likelihood? In most cases … none. In a few cases … slim. How’s that for a flippin’ epiphany? Certainly not one that evokes warm fuzzies. But reality is reality. And, quite honestly, reality can be a son of a bitch.