Sometimes a good friend would like to tell you something, but is afraid to hurt your feelings.

They hope to see what they want to tell you in writing by someone else.

This was the case of my good friend, C.J. Tastet.

When he went on a retreat a few weeks ago at Manresa, the person in charge gave him the following that he couldn’t wait to give me:

“Lord, thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday be old.

Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking that I must say something on every subject on every occasion.

Release me from the craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs.

Make me thoughtful, but not moody.  Helpful, but not bossy.

With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it at all.

But Thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details. Give me wings to get to the point.  Seal my lips on my aches and pains.

They are increasing, and the love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the time goes by.

I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others’ pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memory of others.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.

Keep me reasonably sweet.

I do not want to be a saint (some of them are so hard to live with), but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.

Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places and talents in unexpected people.

And give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.  Amen.” 

— 16th Century Nun

If you have any questions or comments, please write Harold Keller at Get High on Life, P.O. Drawer U, Reserve, LA 70084; call 985-652-8477 or e-mail hkeller@comcast.net.