The Circle Is Complete
I went to church today. Super Bowl Sunday. I was excited. Earlier in
the week I had packed up all the letters I had written to newspapers and
magazines and the news media all over the world and delivered them to my
parish priest. My battle to bring the world back from the brink of physician
assisted suicide was going quite well. Before I left for church, I printed
out 3 more letters I had written and stuffed them in my pocket. More great
stuff. I had to get them to the priest.
I knew it was God who was calling me to do His work. I knew it from
the previous Sunday's readings and songs. I was answering like St. Paul
must have answered. My words contained the wisdom of God. No doubt that
priest was going to do his sermon quoting from the very letters I had delivered
to him. And how good of me to bring more letters, to share this wisdom.
This was going to be a great day.
Father Tim came to the pulpit. The readings had been more of answering
God's call. I knew I was about to be quoted in Father Tim's sermon. He
started out telling this tale of a preacher who thought he was so great.
This preacher had just finished his finest sermon and was riding home with
his wife. "I wonder how many great preachers there are in this world?"
he asked his wife. "One less than you think." She answered. I
roared with laughter. I was that preacher.
I know what I'm preaching. It is nothing new. It has been said and said
again throughout time. It is said in different ways with every love song
ever sung. The truth does not change. It is said with words. It is said
with deeds. The more simply said, the more simply seen. Only love is real.
I had been put in my place. It was a good place. I was among friends.
I could laugh. I could smile. I was happy to be me.
During the offertory, an old friend, whom I had not seen in years was
helping her mother to the altar with the gifts. She had been my first love
way back in the 5th or 6th grade. I remembered those
days.
I remembered this dream I had as a child. That we would go our separate
ways during life only to find each other in some distant future. That we
would hug and remember. That we would say that we never forgot. That we
never stopped loving. I smiled at the simplicity of the child remembered.
After mass, my friend sought me out. We hugged and remembered. She told
me she had returned to celebrate her aunt and uncle's 50th wedding
anniversary. The actual anniversary date was not until February 15th.
But her aunt was very sick. They were afraid she would not make it to the
actual date so they were celebrating a bit early. It was a celebration
fraught with tears. I told her with a heartfelt sympathy, that there could
be no joy if there were no tears. With that, she left for her celebration.
I went for the door. There was something I needed to tell her. I needed
to tell her that I never forgot. I never stopped loving. She had already
come back in. She needed to tell me something. Something no one knew but
her. She had named her youngest son Brian and no one knew why. She knew
I would know. She knew I would remember. It was the greatest gift I have
ever received. It was love that came home to where it began.
And I went home happy. To tell my wife. I needed to tell her that the
greatest gift I had to offer was not in my writing but in the simplicity
of a 12 year old boy. In the simplicity of love. I needed to tell my wife
because she was doubting her gifts. She felt inadequate in my great battle
to save the world. She did not have enough to offer me. I needed to make
her understand that she was wrong. That her greatest gift was her capacity
for love.
She did not understand my story. She said I had something she didn't
have. She said it was the community I grew up in. I was so frustrated.
She could not see it and I could not explain.
I remembered the weakest point in my life. I remembered the 19 year
old boy at the 3rd floor railing, who stared at the marble floor
and thought of jumping. I remembered what I did after pulling back from
the brink of suicide. I clung to this woman who had been my girlfriend.
She was the thread I was hanging by. It was not love I was giving. I was
only hanging on. She could have run away. She didn't. She became my wife
and stood by me through my 6 years of pain. She saved my life. I told her
this. And she understood her value. She thanked me. I could not bring myself
to say "you're welcome." I could only say "Thank you."
On my father's tombstone there is an epitaph. "Share a little bit
of your love." It is part of a line from a song. The full line is
"Share a little bit of your love, my friend, and it will come back
to where it began." And so it seems that "Thank you" has
come full circle. The truth is not so big. The truth is not so small. The
truth is just the truth. Only love is real. Thank you.
It is a super Sunday.
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