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Lumière du Soleil

It is set for 3:00pm today (Thursday). I shall drive there in my old pickup truck. It is interesting that even though we have four vehicles, as of late, I do not want to drive any vehicle except for my old, worn, bare-bones, 10 years old little pickup truck. None of the other vehicles seem to suit me. My wife drives one and the others tend to sit.

My journey will take me deep into the heart of the city, into the area that has been devastated economically. Numerous houses are abandoned, poverty is rife. Crime, shootings, and robberies are all unfortunately too common in this area of town. Not because of the vast majority of people who live there... 98% or more are wonderful, kind, gentle souls. Unfortunately, the 2% who are criminals tend to set up shop there too because it is easier pickings... the elderly, the poor, the destitute, the homeless... people who can not defend themselves against the criminal element.

Deep in the heart of this area of town are two buildings of note. One was a beautiful, privately owned museum of African American History that shut down due to lack of funds. It is a true shame. Art should be, for the most part, publicly supported and sponsored, and to have a museum like this fall into decay is a damn shame. Across the street from the abandoned museum is a small, brick church. St. Bartholomew Parish.

At 3:00pm, I shall go inside, down to the small office area and speak to Fr. Thomas. I want to go to confession, but also to talk about my thoughts these last several months. I have been wanting to speak to him for several weeks. I feel as if he is the right person to hear me and to give me guidance and advice about what I am experiencing. I will tell him about the loss of my beautiful mother, about my role for so many years as her caregiver, I will tell him about my anger, my hurt, my rage. I will tell him how I purposefully broke my Lenten vows. I will explain how I feel a tremendously diminished sense of faith. I will even admit that sometimes I do not think I believe anymore. I will explain how I feel lost... a ship without a rudder.

I am not trying to get my hopes up too much. I know there is likely little he will be able to do or offer. But, I feel that if I am able to say it to him, he will understand more than most others (except my wife) what my thoughts are. I need for him to hear this. I need to hear his words of guidance, be they short, brief and terse, or more elaborate. I think it will help me to have him, a spiritual leader, hear me. It will make my grief, my mid-life crisis, or whatever the hell I am feeling, get outside my head for a while and into the open for someone to hear. To me if that happens, it will be "Light of the Sun" to my soul (which is what my title to this essay says in French).

PipeTobacco