Every person that is born of a woman is on a journey. It is true that life is a journey, but life is not
I am the grandson of Italian immigrant grandparents; whose children survived the great depression and a world war. My father was wounded a couple of days after landing on Anzio Beach, Italy. As a boy he lived to play baseball, but I watched him drag his leg for forty years of my life.
He was a war hero, but what everyone that knew him understood about my Dad was his understanding spirit, ability to turn tense times into a reason to laugh, and a natural wisdom that could only have been given to him by God.
At five or six years old while sitting in a Catholic church, and noticing a little box sitting on the altar at the front of the building, I said, “what’s in the box,” to which my cousin responded, “God”, to which I answered, “How does He fit in there?”
It is amazing the things that we believe, or rather accept simply because they are told to us by people we trust, or perhaps do not want to disappoint. Only by the grace of God working within me have my eyes been opened to foolish falsehoods.
Who opens the eyes of the blind
As a student at a religious school for eight years it was easy to develop the attitude that the path laid before me was the correct one. One day the teacher answered someone’s question, “What about people that have never heard what we believe?” The answer came back, “There is only hope for those who believe as we do.” I remember thinking to myself, “I am so glad I am a Catholic.”
One night while praying in bed the thought came to me, “If I were to die right now, I don’t know that there’s a God or a heaven. Under my breath the words came out, “I don’t know if there is a God, but if there is, please help me go to sleep because I don’t want to think about this anymore.”
Shortly thereafter, while sitting in front of the TV and hearing the Gospel as never before, a consciousness of sins guilt came upon me, and the weight of the world landed squarely upon my shoulders. After inching down the couch ever closer to the TV, I rose, went to the bedroom, and from the edge of my bed cried out, “God help me.” The weight was lifted and all was right with the world – for a time.