I'm physically exhausted..burnt out with all mental and emotional capacity, but my heart is so full.
I love the ministry here in this place. A community tucked away in the northern suburbs where the young generation has yet to be awoken.
But as they come, one by one, my heart sings. This is what I've been waiting for, what I've been called for, perhaps even born for.
I miss home, I do. But I miss home for the familiarity and security. And I miss home for the comfort of yearning for something more that I grew so comfortably in.
Here, there is no where to hide. If I let one moment pass it's a regretted choice by the start of the very next moment.
I can't fathom not being here. The welcoming smile of a parishioner dropping off a meal at our home, old Italian ladies greeting me with a double kiss, people not leaving our house until we're practically tucked into bed with our teeth brushed and night prayers said.
The pattern always goes: people we minister to become friends and friends become family.
"If you are who you were created to be you will set the world on fire." St. Catherine of Sienna
And watching saint biography movies at the Millers house..then doing the dishes as if we were part of the family.
Playing imaginary hockey with the young Hudec boys after mass.
Practicing "Italian phrase of the week" for each Italian mass.
Making a big deal out of every person that walks through our front door.
Picking up meat that Lourdes buys us in bulk at the market.
There are so many more things... I'm meant to be here in this beautiful place.
