From August 3, 2020 On Saturday morning, my plan was to leave the island a pick up a few extra supplies at the supermarket. Yet I felt I did not have the energy to even get dressed. I laid down on the bed and pulled the covers over me.
From August 2, 2020 In Florida, I’m able to type without Jingle Bells trying to slam his paw on the keyboard or bite my hand. Yet I miss the pest of a cat. Almost as much as I miss the kids and the staff at Santa Chiara.
From August 1, 2020 I was tired before leaving Haiti. Flight was trouble free. Customs was very fast. The driver was waiting for me. I was happy to be driven back to Ft. Pierce. While I really need the coming ten days to adequately rest and to deal with the relentless scabies, I left my heart in Haiti.
From July 31, 2020 For more than 20 years, I’ve been thinking about, writing about, love. Not the surface love we know and sometimes experience, a love too easily engaged and discarded. But the self-emptying love of Christ and the relatively few “saints” from all faiths who entered self-emptying love deeply and practiced it through extreme hardships and suffering.
From July 30, 2020 I’m supposed to return to Florida tomorrow. There is a storm brewing to the east of the Island of Hispaniola, which Haiti shares with the Dominican Republic. Weather forecasters latest hunch has the storm growing into a hurricane and hitting the island tomorrow morning.
From July 29, 2020 As I typed this Journal, Jingle Bells watched intently. If he sees me make a grammatical or spelling error, he meows or bites my ear.
From July 28, 2020 These are photographs taken at Santa Chiara as a storm approached…
From July 27, 2020 Today’s Journal features a series of photos from Sunday at Santa Chiara.
From July 26, 2020 Waiting, waiting, waiting. Our spiritual lives are a vigil of waiting. We wait with hope for the advent of God. Yet as we wait for God, God is already here with us. And we are with God, yet not fully so, and so we wait, living with paradox and expectancy.
From July 25, 2020 Yesterday was far less dark. The Gospel reading was the familiar parable of the sower from Matthew. While few of us are farmers sowing seed, we are all gardens and we are responsible for the space around us. If the soil in our garden, the soil around our lives, is rocky, we can make it fertile…