Yesterday would've been my father's 83rd birthday. He died 7 years ago, Tuesday...just short of his 76th birthday.
He was a bull in a china shop, but also one of the most compassionate people I have ever known. He didn't gossip about priests who didn't behave as they should or messed with the Mass. No, my father greeted those priests in the sacristy after Mass with both barrels of his hot German temper. And, he prayed for them. I was always told not to criticize priests as they belong to Our Lady, they are Hers...and my father would remind those priests of that in very clear, often loud, terms.
My father attended daily Mass. Was a Third Order Carmelite who wore the Brown Scapular, said the Rosary and the Divine Office daily. He prayed constantly, especially for the Poor Souls.
So, dad, with Our Lady's promises held deep in my heart, I am comforted that you died in Her protection. Rest in peace.
My View For Awhile: meandering towards Rome
2 hours ago