I recently had the pleasure of meeting Padre Felipe, a Uruguayan priest who is also my dear friend Joshua’s spiritual advisor. We met in the plaza near my house, where we talked about everything from the tragedy in the Andes (he counseled the survivors and their families) to cold Chicago winters, the worldwide financial crisis to the difference between Evangelicals and Episcopalians.
He asked me not to hold on to his arm as we strolled along the rambla--he claimed it made him feel like an old man--, and I realized in that instant that I was in the presence of Grandpa Tress' Uruguayan doppleganger.
I enjoyed our encounter so much that it inspired me to write this poem. Enjoy!
I enjoyed our encounter so much that it inspired me to write this poem. Enjoy!
Padre Felipe
It felt like chance
When I saw him waiting for me
At the edge of the plaza,
Right hand in his pocket,
Exactly where he said it would be.
He smelled of serenity
And ambrosia,
The stuff divinity is made of.
It felt like chance
When I saw him waiting for me
At the edge of the plaza,
Right hand in his pocket,
Exactly where he said it would be.
He smelled of serenity
And ambrosia,
The stuff divinity is made of.
3 comments:
Very touching Rebbecca!
Thanks, mom! The resemblance was uncanny; I should've taken a picture so you could see for yourself.
Again, what talent you have for saying what we are thinking, but could not say it so well. Loved the picture. Not only was America singing, but also weeping and hugging and kissing and shouting and jumping up and down. I feel relieved. Obama has such a difficult task ahead of him. Then we have our Congressman Paul Broun, who DID NOT get my vote who is saying Obama could be another Hitler. And my 10th District voted in this man! His remarks were even in a skit on The Daily Show! I think you should stay in the US now so we don't have more big happenings.
Love,
Miss Bev
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