Last night, after a long and sometimes frustrating day, I was turning out the lights in the living room preparing to go to bed. The TV was still on in the front room where Larry had been watching. I heard the voice of Chuck Schummer droning on, complaining as he often does. I could feel the bile rising, a sure sign that I was getting angry and about to say something hateful. Instead I whispered a little prayer: Please, don’t let me be hateful” and the feeling dissipated immediately. I continued what I was doing and went to bed. Thinking about this event this morning and wondering about it. Was that a sign that the Holy Spirit is always watching over us, always ready to help?
Then this morning I was lying in bed praying the rosary just thinking about things. About my grandfather who though he died more than 60 years ago has been present in my life in very specific moments. I was thinking of the women at the tomb, how brave they were. They were willing to be accosted by the Roman soldiers who had been guarding the tomb, though it appears that they were gone by the time the women arrived. But then when an angel tells them that Jesus is risen, they run away in fear? It is a conundrum.
Such disparate thoughts and yet as I continued to lay there I realized that the very air is alive and sparkling with love. How could it not be?