July 6, 2022

TWO SCENES

As priest, I look out at a church full of children. They are at a kids' Mass here.

I see possibilities. I see futures. I see dreams. I see the love of parents. I see an investment. I see specialness - uniqueness - and even more: now that people are having less children - kids are being held as more more special.

Then I hear or see in the news a story about the slaughter of 120 people: men, women, children- in some village in East Timor or in Kosovo - or Bosnia - somewhere - and I cry. Kids killed before their dreams can be realized.

The specialness of life - the value of life in one place - and the apparent cheapness - in some other place.

Then I remember scenes - a third scene - the kid who never dreams - but who lives till 85 or 90.

What about me?  What were my childhood dreams? What did I want to be? What did I want to do? Are they still energizing me?

I had two dreams as a kid: to be a priest   in Brazil  and to write. 

I never got to Brazil.  My classmates yes . Me no.

My destiny as priest has been here in the United States.

I also dreamed of writing. It has been  realized.

However the dream of making it as a writer - better than I have - is still there - is still here.

More.  

I need to do more writing.

Sentence by sentence the book is written.

Step by step the dream is realized.