It’s 1:39a. I’m playing games on both my PC and my iPad.
Tomorrow I am hoping (praying) that I can attend our parish healing Mass.
I can’t sleep. I’ve had 3 sessions of dystonia (seizure-like, muscle spasms), and everything points to my past of being unable to go outside my home.
So, I take the drugs and play games wondering if I should just stay up all night or try to get some sleep.
It’s been 4 years since I’ve walked into my parish. They serve me regardless of whether I cross their threshold, nor afford to tithe. Which boggles my mind.
They bring me communion (Eucharist) when I allow it. Socially I am shriveling up. I have a hard time letting people in. A harder time leaving my home. My fortress.
I’ve asked my daughter, Beth, to take me. I’ve invited a dear friend to come with. My Eucharistic Ministers will be there.
I need the fragrance of incense and bees wax. I need the balm of sunlight through the stained glass windows. I need to light a candle for those I love. I need to touch a pew. I need the healing oil Fr. Bob will anoint me with on forehead and palms. I need the forgiveness.
Most of all, I need the hope that a healing Mass provides. To heal, to maintain or to have a happy death with my family around me.
Papa, I’m trying with all my strength to be present tomorrow.
It’s me. Vicki