Part 1: Diagnosis

 

            Amid the sunshine, breezy air, and chirping birds, I sat glumly. Normally a winter day like this would have brought joy to my heart. But today I wondered if I could ever be joyful again. I drove another nail into the cart. My papa had been to the priest today, to be examined. He had found a sore on his arm that morning, of the kind that could make him unclean. The priest had declared him ceremonially unclean. Papa was sent outside the camp. I did not know if I would ever see him again.

The immortal desire of my heart:
To love and to be loved.
For that yearning is Christ's everlasting mark,
Which he hath given to mortal man.

Oh soul which cannot rest until
Every grace is well used,
Which cannot respite 'till it is filled,
With God's sanctifying grace.

In worldly things I see no pleasure,
For all turns to rot and dust,
But seek in God my only treasure,
And thus find my truest desires.