Januarius

 In the Roman Catholic Church tradition, each month of the year is named for the life of a long ago Saint. These are Souls whom the Church has deemed worthy of honor and sanctification. Most of them suffered through perilous pitfalls and brutal mistreatment.  Many of them doled it out. I will spare you such details.

Januarius hangs on the calendar marking the passage of time in my mother’s room. He is the Saint of September.The reflection point of summer’s deep and somber transition into fall. According to legend, he was a Saint with Heart. And it was Heart that he championed through his brief journey Home.

September is a month that mere words simply fail to describe. It is a month of letting go and leaning in and letting be and holding tight and moving on. It is a month of bitter sweet surrender and glistening promise, all tied up in the same glowing bow.

September brought the exit of my father and the entrance of my first great grandchild. It is made of uncommon winds and artistic pallets of transient and luminous sky. It is a conglomerate of the Ides of March, the Gales of November and tidings of comfort and joy to come.

The Saint of September watches over my mother as I write these words and she talks in her sleep. Perhaps they are discussing the Pathways of Heart, the luminous skies and the overlooked Blessings each day of the calendar brings.

Oh, Please, Good Saint of tumultuous Skies,  may we find our pathways Home through the caverns of Heart.

And may they lead us, always, Here.  

To these firmaments of Heaven on which we now stand.

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