As I write this, it is May 31 , and the st deadline for articles for
the July newsletter is two weeks away. You won’t read this until
the end of June or the beginning of July. But,
I want to capture my thoughts now.
My joints still hurt after last night. It was a beautiful night, but it got
really cool. Hundreds of folks just like you and me were on the field
at South Kitsap High. It was the “Relay for Life” event, and Penny
and I were there with several from St. Bedes. She and I were there
from 5:30 PM to just after midnight. Our part of the relay was from
11 PM to midnight. We brought three pizzas, and others brought all
kinds of other nourishment (of course, chocolate showed up.)
The event started off with great weather.
Clear skies and a nice warm temperature.
Then the sun set, and all I had was a light
jacket with a hood. I figured I could gut it out
by working to conserve body heat.

from the cold, from the walking and the slight sunburn.
As I wrote above, I still hurt this afternoon.
But several scenes come back to me from last night. Hundreds
were gathered to remember those who died from cancer and give
thanks and support for the ones, included themselves, who have
survived or are surviving. There was joy, laughter, sadness and
expressions of comfort shared amongst the many, many people.
Last night was an act of support by thousands if not millions across
the country with their time, talent and treasure. What I did that night
didn’t amount to much, and I still hurt. But I don’t hurt at all like
those who fought their cancer and lost or those who are survivors.
Last night was part of an effort to fight a killer of young and old
regardless of race or gender. Folks from all walks of life together.
There were infants to old codgers. The well-to-do and the poor.
But something happened that night, people prayed. It wasn’t a Billy
Graham moment (not that there is anything but good in those
moments with Billy.) In the midst of all the commotion, people
prayed. They prayed alone, and in groups. The prayer was often of
the typical variety, heads bowed and hands clasped. But the
walking of the track was prayer as well. The clapping of hands and
cheers in support of the survivors was prayer.
How could this stuff be prayer? Because people were answering a
call to help the poor, the lame, the sick and the friendless and others
in the midst of the fight of their lives.
They were doing the work of our Lord whether they knew it or not.
And, sometimes it hurts.
Blessings,
Fr. Mike+