Tuesday, July 02, 2013


Fr. Mike once joked with me, as we discussed the doctrine of purgatory: "You know what purgatory's like? It's like sitting in a bus station in Des Moines, Iowa, waiting for the connection to Chicago." It wasn't exactly where you wanted to be, but as accommodations go it wasn't that bad — a little terrifying in its blandness but hey, there are worse things than being stuck in a bus terminal in Iowa.

There are worse words than "terminal," except when it comes to illness; the coupling of those words sucks the air from your lungs and makes you fully appreciate another word: speechless. But as Fr. Mike also noted, life is terminal, the only human condition with a 100-percent mortality rate. Use your allotment of hours and get out of the way. What you do with those hours is your business.

I have done too much and not enough with my hours. The ones remaining are precious because they are few. I don't want to hang around purgatory and ponder what I did not do. Just the thought makes me angry.

I must get busy living.

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