“God be wi’ ye” — that’s the original meaning of good-bye. We’ve come a long way since those days, but people still put a lot of heart into a departure. A fellow at church gave me a small pouch with a silver-looking rosary as a departing gift. He was moving to Pittsburgh, and had been the leader of a group that dedicated five decades of that prayer to Christ’s mother every Friday. He leaves behind a transformation, which I believe in, for I take the spiritual seriously.

Have I not mended my erring profligacy? Have I not contributed to an other’s betterment? Only the secret books of the universe contain all those answers, and unfortunately I don’t yet read the muons and hieroglyphics of what is scanned by the naked eye.

I know God uses unworthy rascals to accomplish his ends (look at our political system), but if I need to make my mark that way, so be it. I owe so much to that mysteriousness behind the wonders I have seen, and believe you me, I am not at all overly credulous. Let me leave it at that.

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