Thursday, May 16, 2013


Crash has a week of down time between the end of his finals and the start of WJU's1 summer presession (which is followed by the regular summer session).  Starting next Monday, he is taking Ancient Greek, putting the polish on the equivalent of two years of Greek.  After spending all day, every day for three weeks in Greek class, I expect to pick him up speaking fluent (ancient) Greek.  Or at least reading it.  In the meantime, he is reflecting about his freshman year on his blog (like mother, like son — except that he can write poetry and fiction.)

Even though it has been many years since I finished my first year in college (36 to be precise) his latest post on the utility of doorstops has me thinking about the doors (metaphorical and literal) that I make an effort to keep open, those that have been blown shut by an errant breeze and I haven't bothered to reopen — and those that I've jammed shut and painted over.

My orationis angulus was made by pulling the doors off a large awkwardly shaped closet in my study.  Crash holds the door open to let new people and experiences drift into his life.  So what was I saying when I created this space for prayer, with no doors at all? There are no boundaries. Can I bring this utter openness to my prayer?  Does it enable the prayer to pour back into my life?

Photo is of doors to chapel at the old Jesuit novitiate in Wernersville.  Note the doorstop!

1. WJU = Wonderful Jesuit University


  1. What beautiful doors at Wernersville! I want to experience the feel of the wood and enjoy the stained glass in the windows.

    Incidentally, your son writes a good blog. I enjoyed reading some of his advice to freshmen.

  2. Greek is no way to spend a summer vacation. I was such the slacker, well still am