June 19, 1994
Father's Day

"More tears are shed over answered prayers than over unanswered prayers."
                                                    Saint Teresa of Avila

I love my dad, he a good man, a kind and gentle soul with a giving heart. In an interview a few days before he was murdered, John Lennon was asked how he would like to be remembered in the years to come? He replied, "I would like to be remembered as being a good father." My dad is a good father.

When I was frightened as a young boy, he would come into my bedroom and comfort me and relieve me of my fears. When my legs ached from growing pains, he would rub and massage them until the pain disappeared. I am too old for such help today, but if he could, I know he would help make my fears go away, help make my pain disappear. I know he worries about me. When I come home at night he smiles, happy to see me - and I see relief in his eyes and on his face - for he knows I'm safe for the night, alive for another day.

I have often heard Saint Teresa's quote stated this way, "Sometimes more good comes from unanswered prayers than from answered prayers." I do not find my prayers being answered, nor do I find any good coming from unanswered prayers - and all I can do is shed futile tears of sorrow as hope vanishes. But I still pray even as my faith flounders and fades.

I am afraid of what may soon happen. My mind is in a constant mental debate over whether I should live or die. Should I continue in my struggling search for hope or should I simply raise the white flag? Should I continue my battle to get better or should I give up the fight? Should I once again try pills or should I use my gun? What should I do? How will I arrive at my decision, through an answered prayer or an unanswered one?

As I watched the L.A. police chase and capture of O.J. Simpson on Friday night, I thought that if I was in his place and predicament I would have pulled the trigger. His suicide would have added a dramatic, though tragic, climax to what was a bizarre, often ghoulish, pursuit. Where else but in California would crowds gather on overpasses and along freeways to cheer on a killer and hold up signs that read, "Go OJ GO" and "Run Juice Run" - as if he was still playing as USC.

Now OJ is in jail awaiting his fate, his trial and judgment day at least a year away. I, too, am awaiting my fate but I don't think I have a year of life left within me - maybe a few months, nothing more. My mind is slowly becoming firm in its conviction that I don't want to continue living as I've been doing for almost seven months. My mind actually aches with pain, a pain that even extra-strength Tylenol can't relieve.

I need help and I pray for hope, something to live for, something to look forward to. And I wonder how will I recognize God's response. Will I discover it through an answered prayer or an unanswered prayer?

2:45pm   -   Corpus Christi Church   -   Sandwich, MA

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