Spirit

Easter Sunday, 10 years ago.

I had just come from a morning Mass and was lounging in my room listening to a CD of pop-inspirational music when I found myself moved to pick up the phone.

I dialed a number and a few rings later heard a familiar voice. I hadn’t heard that voice in at least two years. I had vowed never to speak with him again. But there he was on the other end of the line. He said hello, I said hello, and for the next few minutes he and I engaged in a light, casual conversation about how each other’s been doing. And then we said goodbye.

After hanging up the phone tears started welling up my eyes.

That was the first real conversation I ever had with my dad. And it took away all the pain from many, many years of estrangement, resentment, and animosity.

It turned out to be my last conversation with him too. He died a few days later.

Yesterday was Pentecost Sunday. And I thought it's a good time to once again share this most joyful experience I had of the Holy Spirit working in my life.