I was listening to the radio this evening, preparing a plate of left-overs for my microwave, when I heard that Pope John Paul II had been rushed to a hospitial. He had come down with the flu and complications have set in.
I have never been a huge fan of some of the policies of this Pope and the Church as a whole. Most of my disagreement falls along the lines of abortion and the Church’s steadfastness against contraceptives. (A more meatier discussion is a different post.)
Despite that, I still proudly proclaim that I am Catholic. Now I don’t wear my Catholicism on my sleeve like some people, or worse like many Evangelical Christians, just on my forehead on Ash Wednesday.
Tonight, I probably will say a rosary for the Pontif. I hope that he will pull through this. The pictures of him dealing with a pair of reluctant doves Sunday were fabulous. They showed a man full of life for once. Most of the times, you see a hunched over man laboring to deliver his message or say the Mass.
If the unfortunate happens and Karol Wojtyla passes on from this Earth, many would agree that the last pictures of him smiling with the delight that comes from watching two 8 year olds try to coax birds out into the cold air of winter would be far better than most of the ones the world has become accustomed to.
