Per Ipsum

when I called, you did not answer,when I spoke, you did not listen Isaiah 65:12 Oh how I hate silence. Once there is emptiness in my life, I rush in with goals and plans. For years I believed that to be virtue. I've come to see it as refusal to listen. It is no different than rushing to fill every lull in the conversation with talk, leaving those I'm with no room to speak. It has been six weeks since my father's funeral, and there have been days well occupied with business associated with the aftermath. There are many more, however that are wide open, many more such days than at any time in my adult life. They are frightening. My first instinct was to begin to scan the want ads and to engage family in discussion about whether or not we ought to move near the grandbaby. Only belatedly did it occur to me how horrid for my daughter and son-in-law it would be if we did indeed make that child the center of our days (he is already the center of our heart). After thrashing aroun

On my bed I remember you. On you I muse through the night. Psalm 63 When I cannot sleep and there appears to be no reason for it, I want to shout, "What do you want from me?" Rude to God--good going! In the "watches of the night" the words of Augustine, "Our hearts are restless til they rest in You," take on new meaning. Restless indeed, in every sense of the word--lacking in rest, restlessly moving, restless legs, restless mind. In him is our safety, our rest, our security, but my mind can't always convince my body. Strung out from lack of sleep, piety and contemplation escape me. All I can do is repeat rote prayers. When the rosary is finished, all I can seek oblivion in cable TV (truely awful in the wee hours of the night) or the Internet (brain numbing, particularly the games). Productive work is not an option at that point. So I throw myself on his mercy and pray for a cure--or for morni