Sunday, October 25, 2009
I was a mule for a swine.
My house sounds and looks like an Adirondack TB hospital. The children are sitting around wrapped in blankets coughing like emphysematic smokers while their dutiful nurse scurrys from patient to patient dispensing antipyretics like precious shots of Kentucky bourbon. Thankfully, none of them are exhibiting severe or troubling signs beyond elevated temps and yucky coughs.
The Bishop of our diocese, Most Rev. Edward Kmiec, has directed his flock to refrain from dispensing the precious blood and to omit the Sign of Peace from the liturgy in an attempt to protect us from passing the nasty virus like a green bean cassarole at a parish pot-luck. He has also advised those who are ill that their obligation is lifted; it seems obvious, but there are those who so dearly love the Lord that they cannot imagine not attending Mass on Sunday, and will drag themselves in on a respirator and dialysis machine if necessary. While admirable, in a pandemic it would be prudent to stay home. So stay home. Really. Bishop said so. It's okay.
In the meantime my guilt consumes me. And so I endure the coughing, the whining, the demands for this and that, the sound of Nintendo DS's game after game...praying for their health, expressing gratitude that things are not worse than they could be, and lifting mothers and fathers in prayer who have lost their children in the last few weeks to this insidious virus. He gives and takes away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.
Posted by David Marciniak at 10:50 AM