Well – no. I just got in from a Cursillo closing. While we were waiting I was talking with a friend who asked about the recent trip to Paris… “Was it good? Did you journal while you were on the trip?”
I took my journal (the paper one), but I didn’t ever sit down to reflect and write. It would have been good to do so. If I had there are several things that might have been covered in more depth:
- I could have done more with “prophets in your face? or you in your own face?”
- I could have waxed eloquent about the joy of hearing my 20-something daughter talk about how she seems to have influenced her fiance to understand that when you receive something you have to “give something back.” Oh – the joy that knowing that something about her upbringing “took” – that she picked that up.
- There are things that I discuss with my friend and confessor that will never make it to this forum. What is likely to make it, however is that he shines a light that reminds me that I am loved, just as I am.
- I could have written more clearly my thoughts about the windows at St. Chappelle – the ones for Judith and Esther. Strong women with their stories told in gorgeous stained glass
- Or my immediate reactions to the beautiful witness that JP II made in his way of dying with dignity and his seeming fearless facing that death.
But, I didn’t. That means that I pick up pen or keyboard and resolve to carry on now and in the future. It certainly helps to explain myself to myself. Just the act of trying to capture the feelings and thoughts in words. The act of sorting and organizing these randoms flashes of insight into a more cohesive whole. Like I’m doing now in some fashion.