I have received so much response from this blog (and even just about my random Facebook postings).  Whether it’s a friend questioning if I share too much – or to the other extreme where another friend is praising me on my courage to bare my soul to print.  It has had me pondering my desire to blog, what motivates me and why it feels good to do so.  

What I come back to is a conversation I had with the priest I grew up with.  One who I saw regularly, even though I wasn’t attending church…or even remotely a practicing Catholic…or ever even opening up a Bible.  See, I did administrative work for him.  Organized the collections from the weekly services and got them ready for deposit.  Wrote out Christmas cards.  Various things that as time went on were difficult for him to do. My sisters actually started doing this when they were teens and as they grew up and moved on it naturally fell to me. It just kind of stayed with the family.  My close friends and family knew I was unavailable for a block of a few hours each week as I was “counting money”.  It wasn’t a typical relationship one would expect with a priest.  I don’t recall, even once, us having a conversation about scripture.  It was all bout life…and death…and  more life.  He would discuss people I grew up with that were getting married, had died, or were in the police log for various crimes. About human nature and why people are the way they are.  About accepting all people for who they were…everyone has worth.  About relationships.  We talked a lot about that.  Even though they weren’t long conversations…they were frequent.  He would always leave me with a thought and walk out of the room…leaving it to resonate.  

“God didn’t create us to walk the earth alone.  We are meant to share our life with another person.”

He said that to me many times.  At that moment it made me feel for him.  He lived a very simple life.  He, himself, lived alone…obviously, as a priest.  He lived a simple and noble life.  He lived far below his means and gave whenever he could.  I loved how he gave, too.  People would forever be ringing his bell at the house while I was there.  Asking for help.  I would hear the stories and the woes.  I heard how he empathized with them.  He would give them help…and they earned it.  “Here’s $20, there’s a rake over there and the lawn needs a cleaning”.  It was never a “hand out”.  He was an amazing man and his death a few years ago only falls second to Michael’s as the person who I lost that so deeply impacted me.  The things that comfort me are the fact that I now know God, I have opened the Bible and I know that his person he shared his life with was God. That’s who he walked the earth with.  That’s who he died with, even if not being surrounded by loving family and friends the way I think it should have been.  But in saying those previous words to me…he was talking not about himself.  He was saying that for me.  Encouraging me not to lose faith and to know it was okay to press forward and to find someone new.  Someone to share my life with.

That’s where my blog comes into play.  This is my place to share.  If you go through life without that person to share it with…it just doesn’t have the same joy.  Whether it falls on deaf ears or I see that hundreds of people have read a post, it is still the same feeling when I hit “publish”.  My experience, thought or even just a recipe…has been shared.  Of course, I prefer if SOMEONE reads it and I like feedback…but the sharing is what it’s about for me.  For now, this is who I am sharing life with.  I am not walking this earth alone. 

Thank you Father Thomas B. Morgan. I’ll blog on….