En français
My
husband and I took a quick trip this August, driving around the Gaspé Peninsula on "Route des Navigateurs", a classic road trip. Seeing the crowded roads, full of
people going toward some destination, I remembered my departed loved ones, also
thinking of all the people who went on their last trip – roads are full of
pilgrims. And, maybe, because Father's Day in Brazil was approaching, I thought
a lot about mine. To my surprise, we passed a small town named St-Yvon. I had
never heard of it, nor did I know that there was a saint – another one – with
my father's name.
My
father was a saint. Not only me who say that, I have always heard about it –
even when he was still alive – from people who knew him. His vast culture
helped by his privileged intelligence caused him no affectation; his humility
was sincere and true. He spent his life giving to others what he was and what
he learned, possessing a rare kindness, cultivated by a great faith.
Our
holidays also reminded us of the trip of St. Joseph and St. Mary, pregnant with
the Child Jesus, to Bethlehem, for the census. We've had a tiny idea of what
their suffering had been, finding no lodging anywhere. We ended up finding a
place to stay, after an entire day on the road, stopping in every city,
knocking on the door of every hotel we saw. All of them were already complete.
When we were exhausted, in the evening, we were finally welcomed by a booking
cancellation.
We
were not in a stable; on the contrary, the hotel was far more luxurious – and
more expensive – than what we wanted, and it also was another frustration. This
is our life here. We may try to improve it, but there will always be some kind
of suffering. If we had booked a hotel before, we would not have gone through
this trouble, but we certainly can’t avoid all the problems in our lives.
This
experience has been useful, and made me think more deeply about life, inspired
by the Holy Family and St-Yvon. The mystery of Jesus' participation in the
history of suffering and then redeeming us by his Resurrection... In honor of
my father, who was Catholic (I won't say very Catholic, because we are or are
not), I will try to meditate on all this for not to throw away everything he
taught us and passed on. Although it is tiny I give my testimony; it
may be somehow effective in order to avoid the footsteps of our pilgrimage to
be lost.
~~~~
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