Our Lady of Guadalupe’s day, and I’m in New Orleans, on St. Philip St. at a b and b with Steve, Kate, and Luke. The latter just finished exams and will fly home Sunday, the 14th. I'm here to help them pack and to assist Luke, in particular, after his serious illness last month. I’m looking out into the green depths of a patio. We’re in the servants’ quarters, and french doors give onto the brick-paved courtyard. A huge yucca spirals up with a hedge of nandina beside it.So much of my spiritual life has been lived in this city, looking into and sitting in such patios. And my sensual life definitely came alive here, too. There’s always a fitness in returning, in our lives.
Turbulence in my soul, caused by T. Reed—deliberately engineered by her in vicious attacks on me through the new provost. Yesterday as we drove, I read Psalm 107:25-30, and was very glad to think that the Lord calms storms and brings us to safe haven. Have also been reading Micah 2:8-13. This is a time in which it seems as if T. Reed is intent on persecuting—once again. And all that is left is to pray—once again.
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