The Word of God does more than echo within our minds and souls, it resounds within forests and stadiums, rumbles like traffic amid sky-scrapers and apartment buildings. It forms farms from the soil of the earth and assembles factories from the labor of workers.
The elderly woman praying a rosary in the front pew of church? Her daughter is married to Ernest Hemingway’s son. The district judge who serves on the pastoral council? He was General Schwarzkopf’s driver during the first Iraq war.
I was fired up. I could hear conviction in my voice and felt intensity in my glare. But, as often happens when I assume the role of teacher, the instructor learned more than the students.
When I was a boy, my grandmother lived on a farm across the road from my parents’ farm. Like all grandmothers, she was the best grandmother in all the world.
It is late when I put the novel aside, but tiredness is not the reason that I close the book. I stop reading because the kid in the story is getting to me.
