As I look back over the decades since my stay in Assisi, I try to give my moments to the people and the animals in my life now. I don’t always succeed, but every day, I try. When I wake up, I thank Jesus for my life that day and then I contemplate which tasks I think he wants me to do. And then I think of Francis and how to be a better Franciscan that day. I talk with St. Francis about how he might want me to perform my tasks, such as talking to the rabbit, taking care of my dog, going to the beach every morning and appreciating the glorious morning smells and sounds. I feel the evening sunsets and imagine the vastness of the galaxy. I really do. It may sound ridiculous to some people, but to me it is my way, my deepest way, of praying.
I once had a friend scold me for not going to Mass one Holy Day. I was in my boat with my dog, going to the nearby sandbar to be alone with the morning sunrise: to walk, look at crab tracks, watch my dog be alive, enjoy the crisp air, and be as Francis taught me. My friend said that he was going to Mass, and I texted back, “So am I.”
—from the book God’s Love Song: The Vision of Francis and Clare
by Murray Bodo, OFM, and Susan Saint Sing
