Gulf Pine Catholic

Gulf Pine Catholic • May 18, 2018 9 Let Us Host Your Parties! Restaurant of the Year AwardedbyOceanSpringsChamber Chef & Owner Sam Sabagh reminds you, “Bring your favorite bottle of wine to dinner!” 1223 Government Street, Ocean Springs (228) 875-0603 GREEK & LEBANESE CUISINE 5-Course Phoenicia Gourmet Specials $24.95 (after 4 p.m.) pita w/hummus, choice of salad or cup of our signature lentil soup, entree & dessert Wednesday Family Nite Special Chicken Sharwarma..... $9.95 Mile 26 BY BOBBYE MAGGIO Where are you! He was 77 years old before he had to ride in the back of a police car. The ride came as a result of his wandering away in the middle of the night. It took almost three hours to find him. Three hours that gave rise in my heart and mind to all the awful things that could be happening to him. Then there he was smiling, flashlight in hand, get- ting out of the patrol car. He was fully dressed, a slim man, in his polo shirt and jeans looking absolutely normal and trying to explain where he had been. In his hand, he held an appointment card for his next visit to the dentist. Being a person who was hardly ever late, he wanted to make sure that he did not miss his appoint- ment. It seemed odd to see him surrounded by the police, the vehicles and K9 dogs. This man who never missed a day of work, a man who paid his bills on time and took responsibility for his decisions and actions. If you asked anyone who knew him, they would agree that he was a Christian man who went to church on Sunday and tried to help people every day of the week in his medical practice. A father and husband that was faithful in his commitments. Not perfect, but always trying. The Moment of Truth The disease of dementia does not rush in with a marching band and balloons. Rather, it comes in as Sandburg would say “on little cat feet.” Oh, there are sideways glimpses as the disease begins to bubble up from time to time, glimpses that a person can blame on the aging process or dismiss as “senior moments” until the truth crashes in with absolute clarity and you can’t deny it any- more. Then there comes that defin- ing moment of truth when the person looking in from a point of reality knows beyond pretense or false hope that something is truly wrong. This is the moment when you can no longer play that fleet- ing “lapse of memory” card. In that moment, the truth drops into one’s innermost being; it passes the boundary of beyond-a-doubt, and into the area in one’s self that houses the things that are known with absolute certainty. Truth is the kind of thing that is no longer up for debate. At this moment, you are left star- ing into the face of a life-changing disease, a disease that so far has no chink in its armor. We were attending a reunion for the pharmacy class of 1957, surrounded by a group of 70-year-old men and women who had met when they were all young and life was full of promise. Each one took turns standing and telling the group what they had done and were doing in life. My husband spoke last and in that short telling, I saw the damage that was being done to his brain. His sharing was out of context and not appropriate. He spoke more about his experience as a medical doctor -- rambling without a conclusion. My heart sank as I placed the moment in context, the context of the begin- ning of the long goodbye. It took several months to get him to the doctor. He just would not let himself accept that he, the physician, was to be the patient. “The hell you say, I don’t need testing. There is nothing wrong with me.” In spite of these protests, I attended his next regularly scheduled physical with him, a first in our long marriage. His doc- tor and friend seemed surprised to hear my suspicions. He said right away that he had seen my husband six months before and had noticed nothing unusual. I asked him to do a few tests that day, after which we were referred for further testing. AWord to Fellow Travellers Amonth later, I found myself hearing the words that I knew I would hear. I dreaded the diagnosis so much that my mind immediately, involuntarily wondered what other terminal diagnosis might be better. Dementia is a long, steady march of decline and suffering for the patient and his or her loved ones. It is a cross no one would choose, but we, of course, do not get to choose -- God is in charge! The circumstances He allows strip us and test us. Suffering takes its toll but it also refines. We can be comforted that we serve a God who has entered into our suffering with us. He is aware of our pain and sadness and He neither slumbers nor sleeps. I believe that God uses the events in our lives to give us insight into our very souls. It is a merciful kind- ness. St. Faustina writes in her Diary of Divine Mercy of a coming “hour of mercy” when those who are on earth will have insight into their souls -- they will see their souls as God sees them. That hour of full revela- tion has not yet come but if we surrender in our suffer- ing, it can become a merciful kindness, a way of seeing ourselves more clearly. It can be an opportunity to cry out for God’s grace and mercy, a time when we can weep with Jesus over our wounds and brokenness. A space in which to be comforted and know that our tears are wiped away by His hand of mercy. Remember, fellow travelers, along this way of suf- fering we are not alone. There are many of us led on this way by our faithful shepherd. We are to pick up our cross and to run our race, depending on Him “who is our present help in time of trouble.” Runner, run on knowing that He waits for us at the end of our course. He waits with open arms. Run, runner, run on -- there is a crown laid up for us. Mrs. Maggio is a parishioner of Our Lady of the Gulf Parish in Bay St. Louis. Maggio Braxton Necaise From page 4 “Being there helps me to keep my end in mind, in terms of serving in a parish,” he said. “For example, when I go home on weekends, I try to make a point of visiting the hospitals to bring Communion for the sick and do anything that needs to be done around the par- ish.” Necaise would like to invite the people of the Diocese of Biloxi to attend his ordination on June 2. “This is not about me. This is not about Braxton,” he said. “This is as much about the people of the Diocese of Biloxi as it is about me. This is for them. This is about the people of our diocese who have sacri- ficed, who have been generous with their prayers and their financial contributions. I do want to invite the people. Please come. Please take part in this.” Pray for an increase of vocations to the priesthood, to the diaconate, and to the religious life, especially in the Diocese of Biloxi