Today is Dec. 1, 2005. Forty-seven years ago, I was born within hours of Aunt Joanie's death. While my mom, Aunt Joanie's big sister Margaret, was in St. Elizabeth's Hospital giving birth to me, my dad heard the news on the radio in the waiting room. My dad asked the doctor if he thought it would be ok to tell my mom of the tragic news of the fire (he still didn't know whether my aunt and two uncles were ok). The doctor told him not to tell my mom, who was weak and had lost a lot of blood delivering me. My dad asked my mom's hospital room-mate, who had received a new radio for her room, if she could please not play the radio for a while, so that my mom would not learn of fire. Then my dad and my uncle Ernie went to the school to look for the kids. They couldn't even get close to the scene, but were told to go to Cook County Morgue. They went but could not identify any kids. They went to St. Anne's; same outcome. They went back home and decided to try again later. This time, my Aunt Rosemary, my favorite aunt, went with them and did ID Aunt Joanie at Cook County by a locket my mom and dad had given her. Growing up, I was never aware of the bittersweet nature of my birthday. As far as I knew, my birthday was my birthday, and that was that. All the grief of that day never clouded my birthday celebrations. It was only until I was older that I learned about Dec. 1st being not only my birthday, but also the day my aunt perished. I am amazed, and grateful, that my mom and dad, and extended family could hide so well their pain and sadness from me all those years. In our house as I gew up there was a picture of Aunt Joanie and her siblings -- a painting. In that picture, Aunt Joanie had brown hair, and big brown almost sad eyes; and her smile was weak, forced, almost as if she were unaccustomed to smiling. - - - - - - - In late fall of 2001, I had reached a deep low in my life: things were not going well, and most of the mess was of my making. Like the twin towers in NYC, my life had come crumbling down around me. My wife suggested we attend a reconciliation service in St. Thomas More church in Austin, TX. When the priest asked us to kneel to review our conscience before confessing our sins, I looked inside myself and saw nothing. Only blackness. Utter emptiness. Alone, afraid, helpless, despairing, I did the only thing I could do: I prayed. And I prayed naked before God, utterly without pretense, and asked His help in turning my life around, to use my talents to bring good to the world. I told God I was tired of trying to fix things: I had tried and had screwed things up, and I pleaded with him to take over my life and transform it. I surrendered to His will. When I opened my eyes and stood up, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I looked and a little girl sat sideways, looking directly at me. The girl looked exactly like Aunt Joanie, from the portrait I remembered hanging in our house as I was growing up. Her likeness was so amazingly similar that I was moved to tell my wife; I whispered, "Look at that little girl; she looks exactly like my Aunt who died the day I was born." As I heard myself say these words, a thought came to me: "Maybe this _IS_ my aunt. Maybe she is my guardian angel. Maybe God is responding to my prayers by revealing His presence in my life through my guardian angel. He is trying to tell me that, yes, indeed He will help me. That He's been helping me all along via my guardian angel, my Aunt Joanie." Although I was amazed at this revelation, I was not fearful or upset or disbelieving. On the contrary, it felt real, true. I knew to the core of my being that this experience was of God. On the drive home, I struggle to articulate to my wife what I was feeling. The next day, when I shared my experience with my parents on the phone, they both mused, "sure, we always thought that Joanie was your guardian angel." Over the next 4 years, my life has been turned completely around. I have been led on a journey of discovering the truth of God's mercy and love. Situations have arisen, people have come into my life, opportunities have opened up . . . and I have been swept up into the flow of love that courses through life. The eyes of my heart have been opened to allow me to see that love is everywhere, and most especially in relationships; and love is as easily accessible as a kind word or gesture to another human being. We all possess it, we all have access to it, and we all are called to give it away because there is a limitless reservoir from which it comes. Pray. Love. Serve. Repeat. This is the motto by which I now live my life. Pray to establish and deepen your relationship with God. In that deepened relationship, God fills our hearts with His love. His love overflows, and we are called to give it away in service, doing for others as we would have others do for us. In service, we are given the grace to spread his love. In gratitude for this grace, we return to praise God in prayer . . . and the cycle starts over again. In January 2006, I will be starting the Deacon Formation Program in the Diocese of Austin. I have been and will continue to touch many lives, and Aunt Joanne will continue to guide me. Although she may have died in the OLA fire, Aunt Joanie was transformed and became my guardian angel; and her blessed innocense lives on, in my life, and touches all who I encounter. Thank you, Aunt Joanie, for surrendering your life, so that mine might be used to do good, to spread love, to do God's will. Amen.
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