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Things are getting weird around here again, she said. How can you tell, I said. Just look at them, she said. They’re all acting normal. You know how much effort that takes? (story of the day)

The BRISA sweater pattern I made for my neice turned out so great! Here’s a picture of her wearing it:


That’s my first sweater. And the pattern had some pretty serious errors, but I got help and it came out. I never thought I’d do a sweater….

Meanwhile, I’m spending a lot of time with my Mom, who is currently undergoing radiation treatments for the month of August. It’s such a blessing that I have this month off and that she needs me now. However, because it’s summer and I have the opportunity and Mom say’s “go,” I’m off for three days back to the ranch in Nevada and will be spending some time with these guys:


Well, the time has come, the Walrus said….

So, had my last day at the office of young adult ministry for the Archdiocese of San Francisco on Friday. It was, of course, bittersweet. Though mostly sweet. Always hard to make a shift, (transition being the transition that it is!) but I’m so glad to be going back to school that it’s hard to get all torn up about leaving the office. I’ll miss the folks and certainly have been blessed in this ministry. I look forward to the ongoing journey of ministry – only God knows where I’ll end up in 18 months when I finish my degree. (M.A., Theology).

Meanwhile, I’ll be praying lots for the new director of Young Adult Ministry, Mary and for those who will support and collaborate with her. What an adventure she’s got ahead. And she’s sooooo up to it, that it’s exciting, I think, for the ministry. I can’t wait to see the change, growth and directions in which she and the ministry will engage.

Anyway, I hope to be able to “blog more and better.” But we shall see. Here’s a poem for the journey:

A Walk

My eyes already touch the sunny hill,
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has its inner light, even from a distance—-

and changes us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it, we already are;
a gesture waves us on, answering our own wave…
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.


August 2004