Tag Archives: prayer

Chapter Nineteen of Online Memoir: Masses, Margins and Metros in Mexico City

Life has brought me back to some places more than once and to others only once. It seems a better and more effective way to write a memoir to go evenly from ur time in Cuernavaca and IDeal and tell how we followed the trip medical progress of my uncle Jed  as we connected with the Justicia and Alabanza community and Dad began working with Will Rodriguez an evangelist in the Mega-city that was Mexico City in 1978. But I think of a time a little later when we would come back for the visit for Pope John Paul’s visit in 1979 when millions came to see the Pope at several venues. By then we would have Susanna Maria SUmmers born in Colombia on September 20, 1978. Sarah still had some memories of Cuchilla del Tesoro and we had come down in a vehicle and parked in front of what had been our apartment  building  in 1978. It was a somewhat refurbished and livable vehicle. It was simply  a stop on the way to our longer and more eventful mission in San Pedro Atzcapotzaltongo (or Villa Nicolas Romero) near Mexico City. We were drawn back there and had many reunions with friends and prayer groups near the busy airport.   I remember tacking a man coming out of the shadow of our van in panic after returning after midnight from a prayer group.He seemed to be very much caught in the act of doing something he was afraid to be held accountable for but he would not really fight me or confess before he left the area and I did not see him again. 

 I had grown and filled out a bit compared to when we arrived only with Sarah the first time. During the Pope’s visit I  also hung out with three siblings. It was another lesson in life’s road. I had feelings for one sister and she did not much care for me but her sister did have feelings for me. I remember her fondly but I was aware at the time that there was something about the cruelty of the situation that had nothing to do with the fact that we were all too young to have much of the relationships we were dreaming about and trying to discuss. It was all pretty innocent but also pretty genuinely sad. I came to visit Mexico City a number of times. Once or twice a group of people came up to give me booklets in Spanish on social and religious theories. One of them explained a history of what would be known as the Theology of Liberation. ANother was about how Jesus had a separate tradition from the Christian Churches that also came from him – a line of sacred prostitutes and knights. All of it was hard to process and it was coming at a time when I was learning about Alcoholics Anonymous,  the Freemasons,  the Guerreros Cristeros who had fought against repression of the Church in Mexico in the 20’s and also revolutionaries of the likes of Pancho VIlla. With all these things and others I will return to in a later chapter on San Pedro I went alone to Cuchilla on a visit and stayed with the Rodriguez family in their home.on March 14, 1979. I slept in their home full of troubled dreams. While I slept the rest of the family left the building and sirens filled the streets and the ceiling and roof cracked above me and my bed moved twenty feet from inside a bedroom looking out at the morning sky. There had been a large earthquake and I had never woken up. But in the night I slept to the shock of everyone and emerged unscathed. I had dreams which have stayed with me all my life and are more prominent than any of my waking experiences in that place. For me, the Cuchilla will always be a place where earth split and the sky was laid bare to my waking eyes.  But that was long enough after we first arrived there for it to really be a different story.

I was working on this chapter as April wrapped up and May drew near in 2024 in Abbeville, Louisiana. Whatever it was that occupied me in this period that ran from my wife’s 60th birthday on Saturday the 20th of April. It was a special party and like almost everything in this memoir, I am holding back something about it because it seems to make life even more ridiculous to expose the hurt and pain of life for so little consequence.  I am unpaid for this and have so very few readers. It is important to me to note that on the 27th of April I worked as an election commissioner for the Precinct that I live in for an election in which our precinct only had two local tax renewals on our ballots. I also voted there. Clara supported me wonderfully, bringing me a Sonic diet cherry limeade. There was a very low turnout and I made sarcastic remarks about it. I also got paid $200 for my 13 hours on the clock. I was plenty tired afterwards. But the system is built for the heavy turnout elections and from a system point of view these small elections are easier and function as a valid election but also a rehearsal to keep all the systems in good shape, including the performance of commissioners like myself.  It is both sad that less than ten percent of the voters in my precinct showed up to vote for something that matters AND ALSO it was a proof of the great expense that is laid out for Americans to express themselves politically. Because I knew that I was going to be writing about this period in my life I could not help could but compare all of this to life in the forming Colonia (not yet fully a colonia) San Lazaro where my father and sometimes I ministered when we lived in Colonia Cuchilla del Tesoro in Mexico CIty in 1978.    Unlike the people of my precinct in 2024 who were not willing to vote on the infrastructure issues on their ballot, the people of San Lazaro came to the prayer meetings that we had and besides the prayers, Bible study and shared snacks they had a very big infrastructure issue. Waste water and sewage pooled in their neighborhood and the synch was sickening. Germs and disease were prevalent and there was contamination of the water they had access to for drinking and washing. But the people had petitioned for the public plumbing, grading and paving at the heart of their community to be done.  That public infrastructure was the focus of the prayers and my father was happy to report it as God’s blessing when the city came and started working on their problems. I was happy to praise God because it seemed I might go to most of those prayer meetings and not get sick. However, from a point of view of how exactly God may have heard the prayers of his people in San Lazaro, there are some facts. It is not hard to believe that there were in fact people in the city who investigated the situation and found that a foreigner whose father was on the highest court of the US State of Louisiana and who was a lawyer educated in law schools in New Orleans, New York and London  was visiting these people. It was not a matter of hatred for the people of San Lazaro that would have kept them in the desperate situation. They responded to the potential risks of the village being healed or being neglected. WHile the village thanked God for the change they also thanked the government, they continued to work hard and with less sickness and misery they improved their houses and developed small businesses more quickly and people paid their taxes. It was a good outcome. This would be a pattern of the SUmmers family ministry in the days before Family Missions Company. A number of time we were able to direct and redirect new attention to a variety of needs, problems and resources and things changed for the better. Often the vehicle was a prayer meeting. I had little doubt then and still believe now that God heard the prayers of  the people gathered to pray. It was a very powerful moment in our lives and there would be others.      

This chapter has seen some time pass in getting it out to the miniscule readership and slightly larger potential readership that could be said to await this chapter, Like most of the chapters of this memoir, this one starts with a look at the recent days and then ties back to a time and place in the past. The time  and place in the past was the time when we first lived in the Colonia Cuchilla del Tesoro near the large international airport in Mexico City . I will discuss it a bit more in my usual rambling way. But it was in those days the city was also the Distrito Federal, like our District of Columbia plays a unique role in the United States, this federal district played a special role in the constitution of the United Mexican States.  The city had its roots in the Aztec capitol city of Tenochtitlan. It was a city of causeways, a few highlands and many man-made floating islands. There was even a system for causing the natural salts to be pooled separately from the freshwater used for drinking and agriculture. A center of governance, military administration, religion and human sacrifice that supported large scale cannibalism. Then there was SPanish conquest and Catholic evangelization. It was on these foundations that the modern megacity of Mexico City had risen. 

It was the largest city in the world and from its streets, I often watched the jets come and go from the airport. In other places in the city I looked at the little bit of snow caps on the mountains. Snow was among the things that did not occur  any closer to the equator than this. We knew that we were South of Louisiana and deeper into the more tropical latitudes. But you could drive or ride a car for a few minutes for a really good view of the snow  in the winter. You could also expect plenty  of relatively cold  winter days in Mexico CIty itself. It was yet another part of my education in my overall immersive understanding of geography. 

With jets, snow caps and the interest I had in the stars, I found Mexico CIty a place to look up. I still look up. In recent days  (April 24, 2024) I received an email in response to the message I had sent to the White House about space. I have attached the  test of the message in the body of this chapter. I am a part of the lunatic fringe of people who are really very serious about colonizing the Moon and Mars. We do not all agree and yet we all agree in the space colonizing community that the stakes of getting it right are pretty high.

The real story of that part of my life is for a much later chapter. But I do remember that there was a great deal of talk about space among a few of the people I knew and almost no talk of space among most people I knew. But there was another factor, it was a matter of language. In the English spoken around me in my childhood, Heaven was where God reigned over the angels and where the souls of the Blessed went when they died.  Sky was where the clouds formed and the stars and sun shone down upon the Earth. But, in Spanish “CIelo” covered the meaning of SKy and Heaven in the English of my childhood. 

There are many things from my life that are not easy to recount.  Some things are hard to fit into the records I am able to find. I am pretty sure of a storm, earthquake or public event of some magnitude and it is still not easy to figure out which one it was some times. Writing down one’s own history is much more challenging than some people might think. I was in a significant earthquake in Cuchilla del Tesoro. I was sleeping at the home of WIll Rodriguez the evangelist and my friend Benito who was his brother- in- law.  WIll was a  Rodriguez who had married another Rodriguez. That must have been on a visit to the Colonia not during the period described in this chapter. I have not been back in many, many years but I did visit it on a number of occasions.     

 The White HouseDear Mr. Summers,Thank you for writing to me about the wonders of space

Our Nation’s space program has always blazed trails into the deep unknown—from landing the first humans on the Moon to launching the Space Shuttle and International Space Station programs and developing the climate-monitoring Earth System Observatory.  And we’re just getting started.

Recently, NASA launched the world’s newest and most powerful deep-space telescope to peer back in time to the origin of the Universe.  Thanks to the James Webb Space Telescope, we can now see light from the oldest galaxies over 13 billion years ago, a testament to the power of American ingenuity and collaboration. 

We will continue to invest in science and technology in order to accomplish great things.  Importantly, in collaboration with commercial and international partners, NASA will lead a triumphant return to the Moon with the Artemis program.  This innovative and sustainable program will land the first woman and first person of color on the Moon, establish a long-term presence on the Moon, and learn about living and working farther away from Earth than ever before in preparation to send the first astronauts to Mars

Thank you again for sharing your enthusiasm for space and what lies beyond the cosmos.  Together we will continue to show the world that our Nation can do big things, and that there is nothing beyond our capabilities.  America is defined by possibilities, and the endless possibilities of space exploration are within our reach.Sincerely,Joe Biden

Each phase in my life and each place I have lived has left a mark upon me. My awareness of the way that Colonia la Cuchilla del Tesoro impacted me has developed over time.  I was feeling aware of the world in different ways when we got to Mexico City. My friends and I used to watch the jets come and go   and sometimes we talked about where they were coming from and where they were going. I don’t remember meeting anyone in the neighborhood besides myself and my parents who had ever flown on a jet. Furthermore,  there were very few people who worked at any of the many jobs a large airport creates. I never saw mechanics, custodians, pilots or vendors from the airport in the neighborhood. It was like a huge portal to the wide world  bursting with resources, noise and complexity that was divided from another huge world bursting with resources, noise and complexity. The two worlds were divided by a fence  and in most places by a trench that ran at the end of our block. The biggest difference was that I knew the people in the airport and the jets could mostly ignore the colonia but in the colonia we were frequently interrupted by the almost deafening roar  of the jets. I have flown out of a lot of airports including several in Mexico during the 59 years of my life  – but even now I don’t recall even having a layover in the big airport in Mexico City.  I suppose it is meaningful to me that a few things have not changed from when I first looked through the fence at the airport.

It was hard to accept all that was different about lives on each side of the fence. But I thought about it quite a bit. WHat were those differences and why did they matter. 

Monday,  April 22, 2024: I had a meeting with an experienced and successful insurance agent. I enjoyed what he had to say. However, I was aware of the general decline of the petty professionals like independent insurance agents based in small town America, freelance writers and untenured teachers. I do the best I can and I legitimately like the company that I am working for now. I feel like the work I do is pretty important and I am hoping that with some effort and a little of what we call luck I might be able to do it for a living while I donate plasma and work as an election commissioner. I am probably not busy enough to make a living and that gives me time to tend plants, cut grass, do some more cooking and laundry etc. I am pretty sure that the down time not spent on the clock is something that appeals to me. I am not a person who falls into the middle of a lot of averages and hangs out in the middle of a lot of bell curves. But of course there are some exceptions. I have tried to answer the   test called the Political Compass Test honestly over the years and I have moved sound a bit. However, although the exact position has varied I have always been placed much closer to the center than either the authoritarian or libertarian extremes.  I have also always gotten a result nearer to the center than to the right or left extremes of the test. That used to surprise me more than it does nowadays. 

Clara and I attended the rite of Confirmation within the  Mass for my niece and her first cousin who were confirmed at St. Pius X Catholic Church in Lafayette, Louisiana on Sunday, April 21, 2024. We then went to a reception at my sister Mary Hindelang’s in-laws home where there was cake, a soft drinks bar, a spread of snacks and appetizers and decorations for the occasion. Earlier that day Clara and I had picked up the shrimp dinners she had ordered from the Knights of Columbus and we had eaten those dinners at home. We then stopped at Costco where we did a small amount of shopping. Once that was done we headed home. Later in the evening we had leftovers fro supper that remained from the party the night before. 

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On Saturday April 20, 2024 we celebrated Clara’s birthday in our home. We had a cake and buffet (to which some guests contributed potluck dishes) , an open soft drink bar and an open bar of the other kind.  Decorations announced the occasion and in some decorations there were stacks of photographs taken throughout Clara’s life that people could look through. We also had a gift table and after the cake was served to everyone, Clara opened gifts. We had sent our two dogs Abby and Bella to the dogsitter. Besides Clara and I we had her sister G—- and nephew Z_____ but  hubby D_____ could not come. Among the first to arrive were Freddy and Sandy Dubois, the couple that led our marriage preparation classes.  Clara’s godfather R______ and his wife C______ came from New Iberia as did her cousins P— and D—–  P. & D. are the couple from whom she adopted  our two dogs over two separate litters. We had her brother Father Edward.   We also had my sister Sarah, her husband Kevin and their children I—b–, J— and E—but I—-a- could not come because he had another party he had to attend that evening. My sister Mary was there with her husband C—- and two of their five children N— and J—-. Our good friends in whose presence we started our adult relationship J–c– M— and her brother J—d- M— were there as well as J—c–’s son S—- J—-. In addition two mre of Jackie’s dear friends M— L—- T— R— and A– M— E— were there, along with this J–c– M—  and Clara herself these two other  ladies were the four woman majority of a tight group of female friends called the YO YOs.  

The party was not overly complex  but it was very nice, I think. I cooked a large beef brisket, a homemade chicken rice-a-roni style  dish, chicken soup dumplings, several kinds of rice and gravy as well as setting out a bowl of fruit. Guests who chose to bring something combined to provide: a guacamole dip, rice dressing, potato salad, spaghetti and cheese as well as an additional cookie cake to compliment the birthday cake. Nobody seemed to be doing without.         

When we first moved to Mexico City I had memories of having lived in two modern megacities, New York and London. They had left their impact on my life, character and perspectives. Each of these two cities was very different. In Soho in London there was a mix of graduate students, artists, small businesses and  sex workers among the flats, and walkup townhouses that dominated the area. New York CIty had a block association that ran a small park and we all knew about it . Our building had a buzz-in foyer and a set of elevators that almost always worked. There were professionals in the lawyer and doctor class but the general demographic was much the same. Cuchilla del Tesoro had lots of private homes with small gardens in their atria. They were two or three stories in many cases and in a culture with limited financing they were mostly being built or added on to by the people living in them. But there were businesses and shops of many kinds. There were a few apartment complexes and one of them was  the one we rented. It had clotheslines built into a structure on the roof and a washtub, concrete washboard which had running water and a good set of drains under the stairs. Like most buildings in the area and much of Mexico the wall of the building was right flush with the sidewalk. In our case there were no windows on the lower level facing the street. A utility room and a gate for the whole complex made a solid wall. Our apartment had windows that looked out onto the atrium’ s lower level, across an empty but painted  wall and a staircase. There were no apartments on the other side of the courtyard, so it was not a true atrium but meant to feel like one. My memory is growing dim on odd things, I am really not sure if there were two or four apartments in our complex but I believe we had four. Two rented to families that lived there and two to business people who were almost never there. There was one other tiny studio on the same floor and it was rented to some business person who was almost never there. The upper floor was occupied by two  apartments. There were two little girls, Blanca and Adriana who became good friends of Sarah’s. There was another studio rented to a business person almost always out of town.The apartment was very near the airport. Our block bordered on the outer fence of the airport but the fence extended around a lot of open space between our block and the buildings and runways. Nonetheless there were many times during the day when the planes taking off and landing created noise that was truly deafening in our home.   

We faced a class in becoming habituated to the interruptions until we did not notice them. We occasionally made  simple tapes to send home in those days or even to a very few potential benefactors. We were operating in a position where I was not in school and my parents were doing a variety of things. But the central assignment we had as a missionary unit was to work with WIll Rodriguez. He lived in the same fairly large house with his wife and some of her family including her brother, his brother- in- law who was not more than 20 years old at the time. He and I would become friends. I valued his help in teaching me to improve my Spanish and we sometimes met to try and discuss the Bible. My father was invited to go with WIll and he assisted with music, learned the basic memorized prayers and some of the most used Bible verses – not very well at all. But he did learn and with some translations from leaders in the Justicia y Alabanza community, Dad and Will got to know each other, in the flow of things WIll began to tell the story of Dad’s spiritual journey with Christ. That is called a “testimony”. 

. It was with Will that Dad had begun the ministry to San Lazaro that was discussed in the first paragraphs of this chapter. I wished to be clear that this was my father’s ministry although we all did our part to support it. I did take up a small job teaching a shopkeeper English. He was able to tutor me a little form a math book in Spanish and paid me a differential of a bag of groceries and a few pesos. However, he only found this arrangement worthwhile for about twelve lessons.  We met  three times each week. I also took advantage of study and an occasional hourly job from the social services ministry in the local church parish. But there was nothing like full-time school, full-time ministry or full time work. My life was a hodgepodge of activity     

Chapter Nine of Online Memoir: Over the Border in Many Ways

Today is Palm Sunday and it follows on an election day. Those are both things more readily understood than stories about miracles and personal revelations of God to a family seeking to find a path to Holiness and effectively bringing the Kingdom of God into new parts of the modern world. In El Paso in the ministry with Father Rick there was a new level of hearing God speak to people in person prayer, interpretation of Sacred Scripture and in signs and wonders. But all of this went on as we came in from a life spent praying for healing and having testimonies of people that they were healed quicker than ever before with their medical treatments or before they could seek medical intervention. People who had been enslaved by alcohol, drugs, and other addictions found in faith in Jesus, life in the church and personal and shared prayer dramatic freedom and restored jobs and marriages. People who had been trapped in bitterness and despair found in the Bible as the Word of God a map for hope that gave them joy. Prayer groups founded in the Charismatic renewal in the Catholic Church and the Pentecostal movement in Protestant churches often established soup kitchens, clinics, missions to very distressed communities and lots of other things that could be called both Charity and Social. Minor and major miracles were reported and written about by many in and around those movements.  But  in our journey to El Paso at that time there was another level both of intensity in ministry and in the number of reports that were circulating about the miracles that came with following the gospel of Christ and the move of the Holy Spirit in our times..    . 

Yesterday, Saturday, March 23, 2024, there was a Commissioning Mass for a class of intake members  from Family Missions Company. That is the outgrowth of the ministry that brought us to El Paso and flowed from El Paso. Today, Mome took Clara and I to eat lunch at a nice restaurant in Abbeville. Clara and I took a little time out to try to rescue a well groomed dog which had gotten loose and appeared to be in distress. Mom also told us how beautiful the Mass was and how moved she was by all of it. She talked about remembering the early days of the ministry. “I really wished you, Beau and Clara would have been there because I knew that at least Beau would have remembered the beginning of all of this.”

“What you all did was a lot. In terms of lifetime achievement it ranks pretty high in my book.” Clara said.

“But I don’t think of that in my life day to day. “ My mother answered, “But I know it’s true.”

“You don’t rest on your laurels.” Clara volunteered.

“I don’t think of laurels. “ Mom replied.

So yesterday there was a celebration of a company where one can still freely discuss supernatural experiences and I was not there. Clara and I were each involved in doing more mundane things. This story is  that I am writing is a narrative of mundane and ordinary things as well as personal secrets. Then it is also a story with some parts that fall outside the purview of normal events and into the realm of events that require some kind of extraordinary response. 

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The Crest of the Carmelite Order which operated the Mount Carmel Elementary School I attended.

I am writing a memoir in which I will ask a theoretical reader to really view with their mind’s eye, understand to the limits of their experience and intelligence and empathize to the edges of their compassion with some extraordinary experiences the theoretical reader would normally dismiss. But I am writing not from the heights of success with great incomes, security and property. I am also not writing from a homeless shelter or a prison.my life is in many ways caught up in the flow of normal mainstream things. It is Palm Sunday, March 24, 2024. Like many millions of Cristians I am remembering the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem amid the cheers and acclimation of the crowd. My wife and I woke up later for us and I made coffee and a bigger than average breakfast. She went to pick up our dogs Abbey and Bella from the dogsitters – who are also our friends. We slept in late for  and were very tired when we went to bed after working as commissioners at two different precincts in an election for the Louisiana Republican and Democrat  Party Presidential Primaries. We also had a parishwide Parcel Fee referendum. The turnout for the Republican Primary in Vermilion Parish was 18.7% of registered voters and 94% voted for Donald Trump.   The other item on the ballot across the entire parish was  parishwide parcel fee proposition to fund the Vermilion Economic Development Alliance, the turnout for that  was 12.4% of registered voters and 91% of those who voted in the election in our parish voted down the proposal. The turnout for the Democrat Primary had a turnout of 8.4% of registered Democrat voters and 63% voted for Joseph Biden. It is also a fact that almost three times as many voters voted in the Republican Primary. Non party voters can vote in most of Louisiana primaries – that are held in an open primary or jungle primary format. The primary elections become full elections if someone get more than fifty percent of the vote. If not then top two finishers will engage in a runoff. With two options one is bound to have more than half the votes. If there is a tie (as happens in small town and village elections sometimes) then they run again. However,  every four years for the presidential primaries, we have closed primaries. Then voters can only vote for their own party and are blocked out of the other party primaries. Governor Jeff Landry has declared his intentions to seek more closed partisan primaries and fewer jungle primaries.  It is notable that Jeff Landry running for Governor from his position as a Republican Attorney General beat a field of twelve outright in the jungle primary for Governor and was immediately elected with more than 50% of the vote in that first election. There was no runoff.          

The Wednesday March 20,2024 issue of the Abbeville Meridional came in the mail instead of being delivered by the newspapers own delivery systemI am still getting used to this being the way that I get my hometown newspaper in the mail. I am also getting used to only getting two copies a week instead of five. I have been covered in the newspaper and had my byline in it many times and it is one more milestone of a life moving into unfamiliar territory as I age. This goes with the theme of having applied for disability as I began  writing this online memoir. It is also a fact that there is a very long obituary for James Alexander RIch on page two. I worked for Jim as a sales manager at his company, Catfish Wholesale in the early nineties. We had some success together in those months and not only in sales, we also had a successful buying trip to the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico. Jim’s life of adventure, SCUBA diving, piloting airplanes and his passion for hunting and fishing are recounted. But so are the struggles and ups and downs of his life. He died on February 17, 2024 but I did not find out about it until I read the newspaper’s long obituary. I haven’t kept in touch with Jim and I will be missing his funeral on Saturday March 23, 2024 to serve as an election commissioner in the election that includes the Louisiana Presidential Primaries and the parish wide election to determine if a parcel fee on properties will be assessed to support the Vermilion Economic Development Alliance. This will hopefully support the prosperity of the civil parish in which I live. 

I like my life well enough to feel something good about it as I recount this version of my life’s events. I am also aware that I have not created a record that will appear to demand a very impressive set of obituaries. My Dad had a huge funeral and my grandfather, Frank Summers the first, had many impressive obituaries and reports in the media. My life appears fairly small and getting smaller at the moment. This chapter is in part an analysis of how the life I lived has conspired to place me where I am. So, before getting to my time in El Paso, I will discuss a little more of my life as it is just now. What I am now is largely a creature of compromises and a a union of what is left over from various adventures. I had tried to be more for my new wife, aiming at relatively modest kinds of success. But I am probably drifting back into a place of not really making things work very well.         .        

It is the Lent of 2024 and the last Friday before Good Friday as I write the main draft of this chapter. There are no deadlines for this manuscript as it may never be read anyway. However, there are deadlines in my life I am taking my turn at getting supper on, that is more common now as I am now unemployed. This morning Clara and I went to Walmart to pick up an order of groceries in the parking lot pick up section. The land had lots of standing water. The rain that had brought the water had the dogs that share our lives with us a few times during the night. It was a pretty powerful thunderstorm. We had already shared coffee and I had the bowl of cereal that was my breakfast before we went to pick up the groceries. I put the groceries into refrigerator and pantry while CLara changed into athletic gear. I simply picked up my gym bag and used the shower and lockers at our club. Then we went to the Healthworks club near where we live. Today I swam and Clara worked out in the gym section of the club. Then I took our recycling to the dump and went to donate plasma at the older of the two plasma centers in Lafayette. On the way there I received news of where I will be serving as Election Commissioner tomorrow. The ride back saw me stop to buy tickets for tonight’s Mega Millions and tomorrow’s  PowerBall drawings. Clara had lunch ready when I got home and we enjoyed a good meatless meal in accordance with Catholic practices during the Fridays of Lent. Shortly afterwards we took a nap.Clara is preparing the dogs to stay over with our dogsitter as we work tomorrow. It is not a very thrilling sort of day to recount.       

My mother’s chapter from Go You are Sent: An Incredible Odyssey of Faith. quoted in my last chapter is the same chapter that covers our time in the El Paso area. That chapter is called “Navajos to La Cueva”. She discusses the move to El Paso in a continuity with our time in the mountains of  New Mexico. 

“We were led in prayer to write Father Rick Thomas, S.J. at Our Lady’s Youth Center in El Paso, Texas. Another thing God taught us in those early years, is that Jesus, the Lord of all the Earth, is also the Lord of the mail. We didn’t expect to get a quick response from Father RIck. We knew he had a pretty demanding apostolate to the poor.

He had preached a Day of Renewal in New Orleans in 1974 (my note: just days or weeks before we left for Tonga.)  There he boldly proclaimed that, “Just tithing doesn’t fulfill the Christian’s obligation, as it did in the Old Testament. A Christian Is expected to give everything” (Summers, 182).

It is important to realize that the first book written about this ministry that I became aware of was called Miracles in El Paso.  A miraculous multiplication of the food in a Christmas dinner served to the poor in a dump was at the center of the living memory of the community. Prayers for healing that had been answered when there was little hop were common memories of many. Such stories were common enough in the days of the large and expanding Catholic Charismatic Renewal. If there were many readers for this text I realize that many of them would not believe in miracles.I realize that some dismiss any story of a miracle as simple deceit. My mother’s autobiographical books have miracles in them and so does her earlier play; A Sort of Miracle in Loreauville. But what I think about in terms of her reliability is that she made a living as a journalist in a small community where people had many ways to affirm or deny the facts and conclusions that she published in the local paper. A more recent book about Father RIck, A Poor Priest for the Poor describes in detail with documentation how another family was the first family at a ministry called La Cueva. That is a bald-faced lie because we were the first family assigned to that ministry. Life is crap and sources are unreliable but it is not a simple matter of eliminating reports of events we don’t understand.       

My next chapter in my life story relates to Mexico and Miracles most of all.  It relates to some other things as well. There are many other connections as well that include thoughts about borders, boundaries and poverty. But to understand how I related to these times in my life it is necessary to map out something of who I am. I am aware that the chances I take are not those which everyone else would always understand.  I am aware that there are many reasons why I am writing this memoir without compensation or a readership of any significance. However, it is important that I describe the way that I live my life in terms that have some kind of lucidity.  I have in my waste paper basket,  a set of three Powerball tickets for Wednesday,  March  20th drawing. The jackpot is $687,000,000 in annuity or $327,300,000. In cash. Those are $9.00 in real money (it would be $6.00 but I got the powerplay option that multiplies the prize short of the jackpot. I used $4.00 won from matching Mega Ball in the inflated Mega Millions drawing for  the last Tuesday drawing. I will be buying tickets for the Mega Millions drawing tomorrow. It is not about the fact that there will be a likely reward, the odds are terrible. But when the jackpot of the two largest lotteries is over $250,000,000 I really am pretty committed to buying tickets. This is an opportunity that my society offers me to potentially solve many of my problems. Although the odds are worse than 250,000,000 to one they seem pretty good compared to the rest of my life experience. In the process of playing this long odds game I sometimes win 4 or 8 or 24 dollars. I rarely gamble as much in a year as I do on this very constrained gambling on these large lotteries. I have been buying a ticket that I split with my mother every time the jackpot is over $250,000,000 and when I  am at the drawing in the country and able to buy  the tickets – i have been doing this  for decades. In addition I usually buy an additional two for my wife and I only (or in the past for many single years, two more tickets for myself). . I am less fanatical about the Mega Millions. The odds are long, but if I were to win something big, even a million dollars, then it would be enough to rewrite a good bit of my life story going forward.  

The life I live has been tied to very long odds, to very unlikely events. It is a very negative perspective on life much of the time – but some of the wins along life’s road have been pretty amazing. What remains of my life may not be very appealing  if I am not able to earn a living but I am not unaware that my life has had some high notes to balance out some of the lows.  

As I wrote part of the  this draft of this chapter at 7:15 on Thursday March 21, 2024  I was back in a familiar space of relative lostness. I had  scheduled a meeting on Zoom at 5:00 that I organized for and which I set aside time for – because it mattered and because the people I was approached by the people I almost met  with. I was hoping that the outcome, which was a very significant compromise from my plan A, B and C for the day and the time.I actually set aside for meeting with them. But they did not respond to the Zoom meeting. I will try again tomorrow, but it is a bad sign and not an unusual one in my life. My wife is out at a meeting and I am missing my window to get to the gym and/or pool where I work out on a regular basis  –but I know that this day was just one of many in my life that are similar. I woke in the morning, made coffee for Clara and I, then I went to the dump and dropped off our recycling to the various bins. Then I went to the plasma center where I donated 892 milliliters of plasma and was compensated $50. On the way home, I shopped and made us both lunch. After lunch Clara and I napped together and then we woke up to an alarm on Alexa,  mostly so I could take the meeting that did not happen. The meeting had not been easy to get excited about but it was still depressing to have it disappear.   . 

When we left for Tonga we had sold a car and let go of the camp that my Dad’s family sort of owned together. Giving up the life of a  family where my Dad was a lawyer married to a small town journalist and paid case manager for a poverty assistance program as well as a playwright in my mother. For me there was the kid who had traveled a lot and attended our small town Catholic School. For me it was not at all clear that I would feel safe again in my hometown and I was never someone who felt very safe.  

As the days passed and we were planning to leave the Navajoland missions, I was praying with Mom and Dad about where we would be going. I had mixed feelings, part of me wanted to go back to Abbeville and see my relatives, especially my grandparents. But on the other hand, It seemed like it would be great if we could establish ourselves in some kind of ministry and basic sense of community and residence somewhere – and then possibly go back home for my mother to give birth to my new sibling. It would be wonderful for Sarah (or whoever the baby was going to be) to be welcomed into our extended family and community there. But I sensed even then that there was not  a way to know exactly what going home would be like. Furthermore, we would not be taking a break for the baby to be born if we did not have a big enough connection to any place for us to go back to after the baby was old enough to travel. I was processing all of this  even while I was sincerely praying and seeking to practice a kind of mysticism that seemed to be vitally connected to my whole life.   

The time we spent in El Paso with Father RIck Thomas started with him meeting us at the bus station. We were dressed in a mix of tropical and New Mexico clothes. My father was an attorney turned missionary and my mother was visibly pregnant now, though not really showing a big bump. Everything we had with us was wrapped in a large bundle in a Tongan mat. It was all that there was of luggage. I rode in the back of Father Rick’s pickup truck with the dog and the possessions in the Tongan mat. The dog was named Fe, the Spanish word for Faith. We spent the first night in a nice place, a Jesuit house which I believe was on Altura Avenue. My room was in the basement with a substantial library. I read a good number of books written by Jesuit priests for teenage boys at their high schools. That was my first introduction to Jesuit spirituality. During our first days there we involved ourselves in a number of ministries including the ministry to the Dump where the miraculous Christmas DInner had occurred. We saw the Lord’s Ranch, a booming and growing ministry of prayer, sanctified work, growing food for the poor and caring for animals. They were developing a fish pond the fish in  that pond interested me. But I never fished in that pond or anywhere else while I was there.

It was during that early time that we met some of the families and some of the consecrated religious that were involved in the ministry of Our Lady’s Youth Center. Bowie  High School was a major focus of the ministry of Our Lady’s Youth Center. The focus of the ministry there was in a new building, that ministry was called la “Cueva del Oso”. The “Cave of the Bear” in Spanish. The ministry was focused on the students at Bowie High School.  Bowie Bears were the teams and the student population was largely Hispanic. Our family would move in and work with the kids and their families in a number of ways. We would also try to connect the young people with the ministries in El Paso and the Mexican city of Juarez just across the border. I made some friends among the older kids and a few of those relationships with those kids kept going for a long time. One remained my friend for decades although we were not in continuous connection over the years.

Meanwhile I went with Dad to the Lord’s Ranch, The Lords’ Food Bank, The Lord’s Clinic and prayer and classes at the Our Lady’s Youth Center. I soaked up what I could and read a lot and watched Mom setting up the logisitcs of the La Cueva ministry.. While this was going on I was not in school and was interacting with students in school in a school ministry. I was a middle schooler and they were high school kids. My last time in a formal school was in fifth grade. The world was a complex place and everywhere I had been I had learned something. Among other things, I had learned that in EL Paso a dust storm could plow in under  a rain storm and drops of mud could fall from the sky onto anything below. I understand that this is fairly rare, but it happened twice in our time there.

We had no been there very long before a new school was organized. It was called The Lord’s School. We started with prayer and bible study every day..We did volunteer work with a ministry in the complex of ministries for a few hours each week. We went on one major field trip every week in which the teachers might teach or an expert might be included for that particular outing.

We had about three hours a day where we worked from math workbooks, literary readers,and social studies work books under the guidance of trained and certified teachers who had retired. Several parents had some background in education but had not taught for a long time. My parents had a hard time supporting my efforts to fit in at the school but overall I was pretty happy there. I am not sure. I enjoyed the company of the guys in our group of twenty kids from upper elementary through high school. One family were part of major clothing dynast and had huge amounts of money, Another family was poor and underprivileged. I was attracted to at least one of the girls in our little school and wondered what the future might be like with those kids in this new kind of school.

About our fourth field trip was just after we had been told we would start developing  food plots and food preservation systems on the Lord’s Ranch. We went out on a field trip to some of the wilder and more natural desert that we could reach. On the field trip we all did listen to talks about dry land ecology and the biology of desert plants. “In Tonga Side School, I used to go on field trips around the school and gather samples of the local plants and so forth. Everybody did and then we would measure and discuss them and look them up in books.” That was what I said when we all discussed our vision of the trip.

.. 

Then we read Bible passages about the desert and discussed them. Later we hiked up a hill and I raced several of the kids to the bottom of the hill. I lost control and ran into a Spanish Dagger plant that sunk a three inch needle of a thorn into my knee and broke off. I would limp, bleed, swell and get sick with infection and despite prayers it would take two times for a doctor to remove the entire splinter thorn. I missed some school and limped on the first field grip when I came back. Then before I knew it we were leaving to go home for Sarah’s birth. However, it did not seem like we would be coming back to the La Cueva ministry. We had seen close up large numbers of people volunteering many hours in the ministries of the renewal that we all believed in and we were hoping that we would live out our lives in dynamic and energetic ministry. There was a lot of talk there about avoiding social injustice, creating opportunity and hope for the poor. The Dump had been controlled by violent gangs of super poor people hurting each other. Not long before we had got there the factions had made an agreement to accept aid but also to work with the ministry to coop the sale of recycled products and some more profits and better working conditions were emerging. I myself worked on creating better shelters, water systems and transit in the town of trash. Burning toxic trash pits we still used but less and they were better managed. I was reminded of my own little business recycling soft drink bottles.  

Ernest and Esther were the couple who took over La Cueva and we were packing up as they were settling in and we were headed back towards Louisiana for the birth of my coming sibling. We took a train which I thought was much more comfortable than a bus. The Amtrak train on the bicentennial year as the Independence Day of July 4, 1776 was drawing near seemed very much an American way to travel. Mom was big and pregnant and we were going home. It was exciting and scary and we still believed we would be working with Our Lady’s Youth Center Ministries in Juarez in a few months. I might be in the Lord’s School in August. I loved the view of Javalina and deer from the windows and the chance to eat a meal in the dining car and stretch my legs on the train. I have loved trains ever since. I knew some words and songs in Tongan, Samoan and Spanish and I hoped that we would be able to find a good way to be in our hometown. I also was excited to meet my new baby brother or sister. But I was also aware that life would be complicated and wondered what the future would be like when school started in the fall if we were not back in EL Paso and I was not in the Lord’s School. I felt like going back to Mount Carmel elementary would be tough. I liked some kids pretty well. Among the kids I liked and respected was a girl named Clara Duhon. What I felt about the kids I spent time with were relationships I expected to be troubled. I had never really thrived there and the years had gotten less positive..

Faith Camp, Bukidnon Youth Conference and the Future

Faith Camp is a one week long camp held for middle school aged students based somewhere in Vermilion Parish. There are currently two such camps held each year. While the kids are the focus it is an event that involves people of all ages. For many who participate in its various aspects it is both an optimistic and fun experience and a deeply spiritual one. The Catholic faith is celebrated in a context which is fairly complete and brings the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the experience of church into the lives of these young people in a complete way.

The last two weeks  before this posting there has been ongoing the 20th year of continuous Faith Camps. This ministry was founded by my sister Susanna whom I saw at Faith Camp last night. At the time she founded she and were regular prayer partners and she was in the area and living at Big Woods during the summer after having started her studies at the Franciscan University of Steubenville. It was a fairly small camp that year but I was deeply impressed with it and shared with her my own memories of a live-in conference  in Bukidnon when she was a child as one of my better memories and so the two things were linked in my mind at the inception although there was not much of a causal link.  Susanna wasalso a small child when the Bukidnon Youth Conference was going on around and near her in various manifestations in Malaybalay, Bukidnon on the southern island of Mindanao in the Republic of the Philippines. I haven’t been back since the 1980s but it was a time which I have always felt had a big influence on the rest of my life and other lives in the family. Many members of my family have played key roles in the success of the camp over the decades. This year a middle school aged child of one of the campers at the second camp was a camper at Faith Camp.

 

 This year my sister Sarah’s eldest daughter Alyse is the coordinator of Faith Camp as she was last year. This is one of the blog posts that I write that is not primarily driven by the news. It is more driven by  a series of important experiences, recollections  and feelings which resonate in my life. This is one of those posts which combines both some vivid recollection and some fading memories: But the hope one felt at key times continues. The possibility of really putting together a history of those years is a daunting and not a very promising prospect. But the prospect of trying to recapture some of the spirit of those times seems a worthy aspiration as it will help me to convey some thoughts about the current times and some of the times in between now and then. I went from New Zealand to the Philippines with my birth family when I was seventeen and arrived there around Christmas. The bottom right hand picture below is of the Maranatha Youth Group in St. Pius X Church Parish in Titahi Bay which I left behind there on those cool windswept coasts. We passed through Australia on the way there.The top set of damaged images are from my time in the Philippines as is my better picture of myself leading my sisters on the carabao. The bottom right hand corner isa picture of the wall of my Household at the Franciscan University of Steubenville.

 

 We were in the Philippines for a couple of years (or so I remember without checking) and Simon was born with difficulties associated with Prader-Willi Syndrome. That was also at Christmas and was at the time of my Bukidnon Youth Conference which is the real subject of part at least of this post. Due to Simon’s condition we came back to the United States. While there I completed my Freshman Year at USL — now the University of Louisiana  — in one semester and in the preceding summer worked in some college and youth ministries in the church. Then we all returned to the Philippines and I renewed my ministry for a while and in the summer just after my brother Joseph was born and having overstayed my visa in a tense time in a country on edge and with a gift of a large and dangerous looking tribal sword I flew back alone to the United States.The picctures I took there for various reasons have not much been digitzed and the ones that were have not al made it into part of the cloud I can access. But the memories that I have of the Philippines are indeed plentiful and meaningful. Many of them were pleasant enough. Although the images in the pair below do not show the day to day life there as I justified that life they do show some of the rewards of the experience. Visiting the sick westerners in trouble, prison ministry, speaking to dozens of groups and working with college ministries all filled most of my days. But the Bukidnon Youth Conference was perhaps the  peak of my ministry there.  Being a 52 year old, divorced, childless near indigent was not the future among many possible futures which I saw as most likely in those days. But the journey since has certainly been a complicated on and rich too in color and texture and that sense of richness makes me feel like an expert on almost everything on some days. While that is not fair to much of anything neither or the days entirely fair when I feel that my onIy efforts to communicate come from having little else to do that is fulfilling and that I only ever feel that I  am well qualified to be a sage because I appear not to be qualified for anything else. My life has not been laser focused in a single direction and my time in the Philippines was not either. I like Faith Camp and I liked the Bukidnon Youth Conference in part because they touched many aspects of life from the arts to sport to socializing over dinner. This reminds me of one of my first Facebook notes when I wrote about  some of the extracurricular activities and hobbies that have enriched my life  and divided them into the big three categories of Faith, Science and Sports which I  chose to denominate as easy issues for that early Facebook note. These Easy Issues are not to be confused with the Easy Essays written by Peter Maurin of the Catholic Worker Movement. His essays were easy,  because he easily guided the reader through the complexities of political philosophy to a simple and cohesive approach which would provide the framework fo the movement he and Dorthy Day were founding. In my Facebook the subjects are easy because of my tremendous insights into the very narrow experience I had in each of those fields — I did not concern myself with the larger picture. There was some tongue in cheek in the use of there terms and words but Faith Camp and the Bukidnon Youth Conference were also founded to give young people a real body of experience that they could claim as their own. A small window of controlled positive experience from ehich to see the world.

During those years when ministry was part of my life I did a lot of work preparing to work . One thing  or another or many things must be left out including almost all my regular Catholic  school time but I now note  the religious education I received. Some I received within the context of the schools mentioned. However, I also took a set of remote preparation confirmation classes in the Diocese of Lafayette within the Come Lord Jesus Program and the brief imediate preparation course at a Parish in the Archdiocese of Wellington, New Zealand. I was confirmed by a cardinal. In the Diocese of Lafayette I also completed instruction in and was commissioned for Evangelism as a Lay Evangelist of my native dicoese. This was also where after college I was certified as a catechist. Beyond those things, I completed the Life in the Spirit Seminar, the Cursillo de Cristiandad (en Ingles), a basic Lector’s training, Prayer Group Leaders Training Course, a salvation history micro course and stdied as a journalist the English translation of the Prelature of Bukidnon’s Alagad course which was a successful lay leadership course. I also read and discussed the Documents of the Second Vatican Council many times and in many contexts. Susanna who founded Faith Camp completed here degree in theology while continuing to build up this ministry. The two things have in common that they communicate to the kids from a depp and well laid foundation.

Like a lot of activity among Christians it is designed to provide an opportunity for a personal spiritual experience. The importance of personal spiritual experience in America is more evident than in some countries. One of the reasons for that comes from a man who was not a Christian but had a profound influence on the Christian and other populations of these United States at a critical time — the Revolution. Thomas Paine, one of the great thinkers of the American revolution basically stated that one of the profound problems with revelation as a basis for any law or covenant is that as soon as it is written down or described rather than existing as a perceived miracle or apparition or Messianic epiphany it becomes mere tradition. Three things can be said about that idea that miracles and revelation become traditions:

1. It is somewhat true and worth keeping in mind.
2. If God, the universe, the gods and Divine Wisdom were communicating with humanity they might not excuse people who said “Well, I needed that direct Apparition your Highness — didn’t get it so it’s your fault not mine.”
3.In places and times such as existed in the Charismatic renewal there was a renewal within the person which was seen to confirm the written Word and the received tradition. It is out of that third connection with the renewal of the background music and lifestyle of our family that the Bukidnon Youth Conference (BYC) and twenty years of Faith Camps have come. The Bukidnon Conference was less part of the Charismatic Renewal than was some of my work in those days and the current Faith Camps only remind one of the renewal. But the tradition is there.

St. Augustine is credited with two sayings that mean a lot to me as far as faith goes. One is “Seek not to understand that you may believe. Seek rather to believe that you may understand.” That saying is not perfect and is easily misconstrued but it remains profoundly true and truly profound.The second saying I will allow to explain itself and to be interpreted without me. St Augustine wrote “The best and the worst men in the world live in monasteries.” The idea that these young people come together to find understanding and to explore a fully lay spirituality does not mean that none will later become monks, priests, scientists or theologians some do and those around usually rejoice.  But the experience is of a different focus of informing a growing faith and living for Christ in the world.

That Filipino journey  in which the Bukidnon YouthBconference was born was one  which only temporarily ended just after the conference itself. But after returning with them from my time at USL and in this region I did not stay but went to enroll at the school where Susanna was studying when Faith Camp was founded.  I returned a bit early and went to live that summer with my paternal grandparents in a larger than most two storey house beside a park. That  is where I lived in that intervening summer have lived at other times and is also where I am living  now as I type this but I have only been here for a few months this go round. Then I enrolled as a sophomore at the Franciscan University. The summer after my sophomore year I returned to the Philippines to visit and overstayed my visa yet again by only a few days and flew home alone. I left school in mid semester for complicated reasons including some to do with problems in the Philippines related to those whom I had invited into the region to help me with the Youth Conference and  shortly after leaving school I met my parents returning to Abbeville where I currently reside. All of that was along time ago and I took a break to do some more ministry and other things before enrolling again at USL and finishing my degree there. Thousands of picture taken during those and subsequent years are unavailable to me here and now on this blog. But the family on the bottom left hand of the set below are the son of Abbeville friends and his wife who have been FMC missionaries where we once served for more than a few years now. The picture on the bottom right hand corner shows my brother Simon and my parents at an FMC Donors Dinner. He clearly survived the ordeals surrounding his birth as did we all.

 

Of the  actual BYC as an event I have no photos to share and never had many photos. Indeed of the conference itself very little documentation was made and far less survives. But there are a few things and here are a pair of snippets of that time. The newsletter Resounding Praise which defined so much of our communication with the rest of the world had a feature on the conference. This gathering so distant in time and space is still near to my memory and sensibility. The sense and vision behind the conference was one of bringing young Catholics and some not sure they were Catholics together to celebrate the gospel and to deal with the real challenges not only of their personal lives but of Islamist and Communist pressures from groups which in several cases were profoundly hostile to their Catholic Christian commitments.  There was also a real openness to finding what could be improved in the generally pro-American, Catholic, free market synthesis that informed the conference. There was not a tone of xenophobia or paranoia but of relatively optimistic participation in the world as it was  for young Catholic Christians. There is something in Faith Camp’s tradition that has always reminded me of that event.

 

 

There are bigger events in the world than Faith Camp or the Bukidnon Youth Conference but bigness is not everything. Nonetheless as America approaches it participation with other countries in the Rio Olympic Games I am reminded that the New testament is full of references to Olympic events. Paul wrote of racing, boxing, archery and of the disciplines of training as well as the glories of victory in those ancient games. For those going to the Olympics who are Christians while they should respect the games and the diversity there it can be both a mission and a spiritual experience in Christ.

A few years ago London prepared to see the wedding take place in Westminster Abbey there was a lot of suffering and pain in the world. Truthfully, there is almost always a lot of suffering and pain in the world.  Whatever their role may be in adding to the sum of distress in the world, the British royals do quite a bit to lessen the sum of woe and that was not the less true in a year when they were planning a royal wedding . That  set of outreaches to those in need is an effort that  is well documented. Prince Charles, Camilla Duchess of Cornwall and Prince William (the bridegroom this weekend) all have long supported a variety of charities benefiting humans, animals, ecosystems and cultural groups in distress.Prince Charles has a substantial income as Duke of Cornwall and donates a great deal of the income to charities in such a way that it leverages and is leveraged by other charitable donations. While it may well be that not a direct penny of that family’s efforts and gifts will go to help those hurt by the tornadoes whch ripped through the South last night it is also true that they are part of a philanthropic community around the world in which helping is informally circulated almost everywhere. Two babies (at least) ago the United Kingdom and the British Commonwealth celebrated on the 29th of April 2011 The wedding of Prince William and Catherine Middleton. This expensive and extravagant occasion was also a Christian ritual and gathering and an expression of faith. The scene was truly extraordinary and the elegant venue and the well prepared  liturgy and preaching were all rather impressive even for those who are not so easily impressed.  The sermon of the Anglican Bishop of London is one which I have found to be a worthy sermon to address our times:

“Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.” So said St Catherine of Siena whose festival day it is today. Marriage is intended to be a way in which man and woman help each other to become what God meant each one to be, their deepest and truest selves.

Many are full of fear for the future of the prospects of our world but the message of the celebrations in this country and far beyond its shores is the right one – this is a joyful day!

It is good that people in every continent are able to share in these celebrations because this is, as every wedding day should be, a day of hope.

In a sense every wedding is a royal wedding with the bride and the groom as king and queen of creation, making a new life together so that life can flow through them into the future.

uture.

 

The future does flow through families and gathering and weddings and the like. Churches and other communities have an obligation, it seems to me to prepare young people to be conduits of the grace of God and the hope of the future into new generations. They need to be prepared for the task. All married couples, all celibates and many other classes of not mutually exclusive kinds of people have to be educated in that complete humanity. For Faith Camp that is a Catholic Christian experience An I like that best but it also speaks to those not with us in that community. I am not a young optimist and my own view of life can be pretty bleak often enough. But while  I am sorry that when caught up in nearly apocalyptic events I often already have declared myself to have been involved in a number of calamities — sorry but not very repentant. these conferences and other things have not made me boldly cheerful in that sense. But each Faith Camp and its predecessor to my view  have in fact reminded me that how one engages with life may change over the years  but faith filled engagement  and courage remain necessary.  I know that I  was at one time more fully engaged in meeting the world and the changes going on around me with gusto and energy than I am now. I beilieve that some of those now enthused will persevere in doing good but will not have the same zest when they are my age as they do now.  The world is no stranger to my dire assessments and prognostications regarding my own life and future but the truth is I am still in the fight for the same causes and so are some of those who fought with me under that old distant BYC banner. So also is Susanna and her early team.

Faith Camp prayer - 8   But there is a time and a place for looking back on all that has happened in ones life and that place is this blog. The time is spread out over many posts and pages. The truth is that I was not always quite so late middle aged, directionless and chronically despondent as I am now.  There were times when I aspired to other and more things in daily life than a differing serving of a perpetual mix of the routine, the impossible and the trivial. I was working hard at BYC but perhaps nobody got more out of it than I. I rejoice in the legacy I see although nobody else may see it the same way exactly.

The outgrowth of my various involvements and labors over the years are not all that easy to track, however there has been an institution which has grown out of all that activity in one sense or another and which is also dear to my heart for various reasons…  My brother John Paul was the head coordinator longer than anyone else so far I believe. It is also interesting that this year’s head coordinator Alyse Spiehler has a brother who although he only went to the first camp and was abroad on his birthday during the second camp has celebrated his birthday at Faith Camp several years and probably will again. In fact all of my sibling except Simon and my deceased half brother have served ads head coordinators or coordinators although I never have. I did of course at BYC which I consider to be an ancestor of Faith Camp. The family tie is a real one with my family but there are many other family ties as well. This does not make the focus more narrow and our family does not embody any analogous local set of privileges to those that shaped the hosting of the large wedding in London mentioned before. But the family story is part of the Faith Camp story.

 

That is, with everything else already mentioned and many other things not mentioned here  — the ongoing work of Faith Camp. That is the distant legacy of the BYC. And in some way it is the universal call of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We are called to be the Body of Christ as Church and to celebrate the mystery of the fullness of life Christ came to offer and assure. All of that is part of the Faith Camp Story.

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