Once again I could not remember the day’s readings. I had to go through four decades of the Rosary to get to sleep, but at Mass I remembered Tuesday’s readings from Isaiah. This talks of the prophet being inspired by a hot coal touching his lips. I then remembered that the priest the day before had been talking about how our lips should not lead us astray.
I was dreaming last night that I was in some difficult foreign country. There was some sort of revolution going on. There was some sort of corruption with power. For some reason, a sign suddenly appeared on the side of the road. It was like one of those signs one sees of the edges of public paths detailing local by-laws. This one detailed a few words of Jesus Christ – what it was doing in this hot, chaotic climate I didn’t know. All I remember in my dream is that one of the violent gang, looking at me askance out of the back of the limo. The dream did not relate if the sign did any good.
I was angry that one of my children was doing something he wanted to do. Nothing worked until after Mass – I looked at the statue of Mary – I knew that love is not about what I want, namely for him to be with me, but what he wants:
“See now, this has touched your lips, your sin is taken away, your iniquity is purged.”