Independence Day

Yesterday I was outside of the mission in El Paso, still waiting to talk to a priest. So I started picking up trash around the mission grounds, every cigarette butt and crumb I could find. I really enjoyed this because I felt the presence of Sister Bernadette with me. It’s the Fourth of July, I’m up in the Guadalupe Mountains. It’s becoming clear to me that delivering this flag to Mexico would cause more harm than good to these women, because I have had no one to give me any help in getting it over the border, especially the Catholic Church. Or maybe I’m blind. If I had no kids, I wouldn’t stay here another moment. But for the sake of my kids I am cursed with having to stay in this world. I have shown the flag to the church people and others. I don’t see what’s so nice about sewing crosses on this flag, because each time I sew a cross and pray, as was promised to me I can see these women’s fate. I’m not going to apologize for the way I feel because this is my heart, right or wrong. And I’m not going to apologize or make excuses for all the frightened people including myself who hesitate to help these women wholeheartedly. I’ll be in this area until Sunday waiting for some brave hearts. Mine is weak, so I must stay in the rear. This flag has now been blessed by the Great Spirit, and Mother Mary is gathering souls. As the teachings of Buddha have taught me, we all come home someday.