Oh, that we could reach so high


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*for my great nephew Francis Treadwell, whom we love and remember*

When I was growing up, there was an AM radio station in LaCrosse (WI) that played The Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi every day in the early evening. The recording was a heartfelt but not too dramatic rendition read by a man with a slightly nasal, very solemn baritone voice. I don’t know how many times I must have happened to listen to it when I was driving around—I never would have had that station on at home—but I can still hear it, and can recite parts of it from memory. If we could meet the aspirations expressed here—even a few of us—how much nicer the world would be.

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is discord, harmony;
Where there is error, truth;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

About Verla

Wordfreak. Linguist. WA State licensed P.I. #3377. Principal, Viera Investigations. Spanish-English interpreter. Sole proprietor, Encanto Language Services. Erstwhile librarian. Texan by birth, cheesehead by upbringing, latina by soul, PacNWer by choice. Jewelry artist, Different Drummer Designs. Owner, world’s most gigantic dachshund. Driver, world’s almost smallest car. Chocoholic. Lover of things purple.
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