Safe Haven

Miriam and Laura came over last night. (We call her "Mim") Mim and I got some Mexican Coke with real sugar, because Mim thought Laura would like it. Well, I know I do. They stayed for a short time, and I just goofed off for a while. I looked up, and it was midnight. I was drinking a Mexican Coke, and listening to Barry Manilow. I wanted to make a joke about it being a cry for help, but I was enjoying myself. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Ah, the tranquility of happy hearts!

I was going up to the Cathedral early. I felt like the wretch that I am, so I figured I'd go early, to perhaps receive Reconciliation. Now, I am fairly open about letting people touch me, if they feel encouraged, or they want to pray, or what have you. I've learned that being too much of an activist as a disabled person in terms of, "I'm not an inspiration, I'm just a normal guy!" closes me off from meaningful interactions with people. That's a discussion for another post. So this guy prayed for me a couple weeks ago on the street. He simply said, "God bless you" and I went on my way. He was colorfully dressed, but otherwise, I thought nothing of the encounter. I saw the same guy today. It started the same way, but it looked as though he had an idol in his hand. He started to say words in a language I didn't understand, and I zoomed away. It's been awhile since I've been that scared. Not of him, but of the demons prowling about. I