Father Jim is a damn good priest.
He is sub-ing for Father Brendan who is away on vacation. Father Jim is a towering Scotsman who teaches at...Oxford?...some prestigous English institute of higher learning and still a damn fine fellow. Missus Koko took our middle girl to see him a week and a half ago for the sacrament of the annointing of the sick (it's not just for Last Rites anymore apparently). And, since I was off today to take her into the hospital for her video observation, I joined Mrs. Koko at the midweek morning Mass. Father Jim presided over it and afterwards as he greeted the folks leaving, he took hold of my hand after shaking it, pulled me back toward him and my wife who was just exiting the church and he asked about our daughter. Just the simple act of remembering her need and her name touched me. But then, with my little one facing potential brain surgery, I've got an emotional hair trigger lately. Heck, I even lit my first candle ever in a Catholic church while we were visiting San Francisco. But then St. Peter & Paul Cathedral is a beautiful church in the heart of the city's Italian district in North Beach. Naturally, my prayers were for my daughter.
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