When I was a young girl, my family spent the entire summer at the beach, a marvelous Italian enclave on the Connecticut shoreline. I have wonderful memories of sun-drenched fun and scores of visiting friends, otherwise known as the children of vacationers.
Every time I go to a funeral and hear the Gospel proclamation, “In my house there are many mansions,” I am both relieved and uplifted. Being cognizant of my own multiple failings and the variety of individuals who have come to church to pay their respects to the family of the deceased, it feels good to hear that God has prepared a place for us.
When a person is down and out, feeling sorry for himself or herself, and wondering if life is worth living after all, it’s a grace to meet others who are in a similar situation but have a completely different response to it.