I woke up just after 6:00 AM on Sunday morning. Outside my window I could hear the rain. I pulled my blanket up closer to my chin and dug my head into my pillow. I didn't want to leave the warmth of my bed. Daylight seemed a long way off. However, it was the first Sunday of the month and time for my monthly trip to the monastery. I didn't need to be there until 9:00 AM but I had planned a stop along the way to have coffee and conversation with my good friend, Fr. Dennis. Soon I was on my way in the predawn darkness and falling rain. The rain was light, however, and I enjoyed my solitary drive on the lonely roads as I sipped my first cup of coffee. Dennis loves the Christmas season and I could see his Christmas trees through the glass wall of his chapel before I could see his house. After my arrival we were soon having some wonderful conversation. I was sorry when it had to end. The monastery and other friends were calling my name. Once at the monastery I was soon into more engaging conversation and discussion. Afterwards, during mass with the monks, I noticed my old friend, Fr. Timothy, who was home for a visit from his work in Rome. When I was a young novice at the monastery he was my primary teacher and mentor. Before I left the monastery I was able to have some conversation with him. We have remained friends for nearly 40 years. After a miracle lunch where little food seemed transformed into a small feast, I headed back home in the rain. Before I left I managed to acquire some leftover monk bread and cheese to enjoy later. When I finally arrived home, the house was empty and my couch called my name. Soon I was transported to the land of dreams.
Over the weekend I was reading the blog of a friend who questioned why he even had a blog. I wonder the same thing all the time. Why do I write these daily thoughts? Do people really care about my thoughts or stories from my life? Am I living under the illusion that I have something meaningful to say? Do I really think I have some insight into life or worthwhile spiritual experience to share with others? Who do I think I am? Who really reads this stuff? Who really cares? I don't know. My wife thinks I am just full of myself. Sometimes I want to stop but part of me now feels compelled to do it. I think I may have gone from liking to write to needing to write. Long before email and Internet blogs I kept handwritten journals. Of course, those were written for my eyes only and were much more personal than my emails and blog. I still write about many of my thoughts but not all of my feelings. I guess I will keep doing this for now. I do receive occasional positive affirmation from people who do find something in these thoughts that makes a difference to them. If my thoughts don't change lives, they do occasionally improve someones day.
Tuesday night I will be running the streets and howling at the moon. Actually, I no longer howl at the moon because when I do I sometimes get choked and then I can't catch my breath. What I will really be doing is attending what I am sure will be an awesome concert by John Fogerty of Creedence Clearwater Revival fame. I saw him for the first time about a year and a half ago in Cincinnati and it was one of the best rock and roll shows I have ever seen. Tonight he will be in Louisville at the Palace Theater. Tuesday I will be resting from rolling on the river with Proud Mary. It's tough being an old rock and roll road warrior. I guess I should be grateful the show is not in another state! Of course, that wouldn't stop me.
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