Hard to believe, but it looks like I've been saying the rosary for a year as of tomorrow. (And maybe a bit longer, but I know for sure as of October 3, 2024, since I wrote about it on that day.) Harder to believe, I haven't missed saying the rosary on any of those 365 days. Neither lung cancer nor lobectomy nor numerous incidents of being "under the influence" nor anything else has prevented me from keeping my appointed rounds. And it's come to mean a lot to me, actually. It's akin to meditating with a chant. (A bit longer than om padme om, for sure, but I've got the time.) While I say the words, I let my mind think about people I love who are struggling in some way--my children, my sisters, my friends, my ex-wives. (And yes, I actually do love my ex-wives. How could you negate all the years of love, no matter how painful the end was? I'd even go so far as to say that one of my ex-wives is one of my best friends, and a person I know can always count on.)
No comments:
Post a Comment