My Bapism

 Today is the anniversary of my Baptism into the Catholic Church in 1943.  I was little less than a month old.  We had babies baptized soon after their birth back then.  I remember nothing of course.  A priest, friend of the family was my godfather, Bernard Corrigan.  So I guess I had a leg up on becoming a priest from the git go.  I was a very good Catholic altar boy, and then a normal neurotic teenage Catholic, which, back then skirted mediocrity.  I did think about becoming a priest as a boy and teenager. Then the world, the flesh and the devil took over.  I became a bad Catholic, but did seem to have this now and again, off and on, desire for quiet meditation, or just sitting still in a church or park.  But grace is everywhere and I seem to have stumbled into being a priest of some use to others on my better days and moments.  My baptism keeps plugging me into grace.  I like being the kind of Catholic I am, though some think it is heresy or bad practice.  I live in the post-modern world and find it fascinating.  I look forward to what time gifts me as I trudge the road of happy destiny.