Bread of Life, Feast of Corpus Christ

My heart breaks from not being able to attend Mass these days, so I offer this.

Father's Day

I never met my father, which on one hand was a real drag and the cause of a lot of confusion in my life, but on the other hand, being born with a broken heart set me on a search for healing ("there is nothing as whole as a broken heart" - a great Yiddish expression) that resulted in finding my Father-God; a priceless gift that I wouldn't trade for anything. Ultimately, I did find my father - in my hand-work skills that I inherited by way of his violin-maker's hands - in my music, especially in my violin - and the way he has spoken to me along the way: playing my violin back to me on the wind on a visit to his grave (true story as God is my witness), in his love letters to my mother, and recently, in the little violin brooch I dug up out of my garden. I see him in my older son's eyes and receding hairline, and in Ethan's dimpled chin. Being found by and meeting some of my father's family for the first time last year was the frosting on the cake. I am most especially grateful for the strength and knowledge as well as the gift of faith I have gained as a result of this particular journey. Happy Father's Day, everyone.