That Chair is Not Empty

This framed sentiment was proudly mounted over the dinner table when we were kids. If there was ever an empty chair at the dinner table...I imagined Jesus Christ Himself was sitting in it. Did He make the sign of the cross before He supped from the gifts He was about to receive from Thy bounty?  Did He partake of his own body in the Last Supper? I can't see Him, but did He scowl at the bowl passed around with mushy over-cooked lima beans?  I wonder sometimes, what other effects of being raised in a devoutly Catholic household might have had. Besides the genuinely beautiful lessons of love, honor, reverance, sacrifice and soul...and a sweet little Baby Jesus.....there was also a bleeding and scarred, tortured and thorny crowned Jesus, a picture instilled in us from infancy. Also , human genocide,..apocalyptic floods ,brotherly murders,... real as well as metaphorical sacrificial lambs . And of course, Satan and Hell itself...with visions of fire and demons and pure evil. Holy and unholy Ghosts. Exorcisms and the strange and haunting dreams of St.John in the Book of Revelation! I can remember the effect of those potent images presented to us as children, and just sometimes wonder if the effects weren't somewhat traumatizing. Just wondering...

What Makes a Grown Man Cry

What Makes a Grown Man Cry

A grown man. Stoic and unflinching. Confident and steadfast. Accumulated knowledge...experience..wisdom. Able to anticipate and prepare for almost any circumstance. Blocking and channeling the chemistry that might lead to a tear's production. Guiding the torrents of would-be anguish to his reservoir of strength.
Silvering hairs proof that his crying days are over. Childhood days when he ran to his mother over a simple skinned knee. The pain he felt taken away by her loving embrace. Skinned knees are nothing now. Deep wounds and battle scars he can handle on his own. A testament to his acquired mental strength. He is a man now.
But what can make a grown man cry...are the days he must watch his mother die.

A child again, as his mother, frail and weakened, reaches for his silver covered head and consoles him once again with her undying love. Salted tears breaking the levies, and he is a boy again in the arms of his mother...