There is an incredible weekend lined up for me. Not only am I going to be able to actually, physically participate in my first Relay for Life in Riverbank, I am going to get together with my 'editor' and go over what has to be fixed in the screenplay.
Considering her comment to me was "I ran out of red ink" Saturday night is going to be hard work.
And Sunday is, of course, the Feast of Pentecost. Known among the faithful as the 'birthday of the Church' it is a celebration of the coming of the Holy Spirit. This had to have happened because how else does one explain the sudden, overpowering, collective ability of a bunch of cowards to walk into the streets of Jerusalem and start yelling about Jesus Christ being the Messiah?
Yeah, I could see an argument being made in that direction but it doesn't make sense. Initially, one could say that some sort of collective cosmic experience could cause a momentary loss of reason but a sustainable one?
And the idea that St Peter, a guy who up until this point had distinguished himself as being a kind of big mouth, all-talk-and-no-guts kind of guy (oh you can count on me, Lord...wait, no..I don't know that man...let me out of here), suddenly had the ability to teach, to govern, to discern, to be worthy of the keys to the kingdom?
There is an ancient legend that says St Peter was forever marked by his sorrow over the sin of letting his Lord and Savior down. His cheeks were furrowed by the bitterness of his tears, according to one ancient writer. Maybe.
I have always like St Peter. He has a way of representing everyman, doesn't he? A kind of Jimmy Stewart or Will Smith character - his responses whenever Jesus asked him a tough question were always sort of "Well whate else am I going to do? I'm stuck with you now" and he just trudged along, hoping that eventually he would understand what was happening. Eat His Flesh? Yuck..He can't possibly mean that....of course, He's not telling the ones who are running away to come back because He is speaking about a potential symbol....so I really do not get this.......but I have no where else to go. Me, a rock upon which a Church is being built? Yeah, ok...trudge trudge trudge...wait, they are going to crucify him? Uh oh...run for it....and later, when the full weight of what I did falls on my shoulders I am back to 'where else am I going to go but to You, Allmighty Lord?'.
So I have a ton of work to do on the screenplay - dialogue is weak, she says, and I need to format it properly - but the work will begin this weekend.
The best thing I get to do (besides going to Mass and going to my meeting) is participate as a member of Team Chase in the Relay for Life. Chase, as many of you know, is the little one who was my cousin George's ring bearer in his wedding last November. By December, Chase was fighting stage four cancer and a patient at St Jude's Hospital. All the money Team Chase raises will go to St Jude's - an incredible hospital that is providing care and treatment to children otherwise doomed to death.
The interesting thing I learned from Chase's ordeal is that there is a small percentage of children born with cancer. Because we do not screen for it automatically in this country, it can go undetected for years until the little one is deathly ill. Women need to request this screening but I really don't know if it costs a lot to do. Other countries screen for cancer when the child is born.
Chase is an inspiration to all of us idiot adults anxiously gathered around him trying to help, trying to raise money and awareness and trying to comfort.
However, he does have one obstacle to overcome: Dad is a Dodger Fan....
oh, the horror.