Forty-Five
THE NEXT DAY IS A WHIRLWIND as I try to catch up on the mail piled on my desk. Thankfully, no one has been born or died while I was gone, nor has anyone suddenly decided to get married, so I am able to devote most of my time to office work.
I’m grateful to find that the vast majority of mail consists of condolence cards from my parishioners concerning Sonya’s death. Almost all contain personal notes with assurances of prayers. Many also contain artwork done by various children, usually consisting of drawings of someone floating up to heaven, obviously to meet Jesus. I know I will need to send thank you cards for these, but I figure that will be a good task to take on during Lent.
Afterward, I find myself wondering about our upcoming meeting. Will the Archbishop move me to a
