The impetus for The Meditation of My Heart came fifty years ago when I was awarded a scholarship to Creighton Preparatory School in Omaha, Nebraska which I attended for just over a week. For it was with some dismay that I discovered the life of the contemplative was not for me. Although Sister Mary Teracita had tried to communicate to me that a call to serve was not to be taken lightly, that it demanded rigor both intellectually and spiritually, I really didnt know what a call meant. However, my time as an altar boy and lay reader has served me over these intervening years so that today, perhaps, I do appreciate more fully the demands of a life of service in the interest of religion. While such a life is extremely personal, the contemplative also lives a life on public display, an apparent contradiction one is forced to accept. I admire anyone who can do this successfully.

The impetus for The Meditation of My Heart came fifty years ago when I was awarded a scholarship to Creighton Preparatory School in Omaha, Nebraska which I attended for just over a week. For it was with some dismay that I discovered the life of the contemplative was not for me. Although Sister Mary Teracita had tried to communicate to me that a call to serve was not to be taken lightly, that it demanded rigor both intellectually and spiritually, I really didnt know what a call meant. However, my time as an altar boy and lay reader has served me over these intervening years so that today, perhaps, I do appreciate more fully the demands of a life of service in the interest of religion. While such a life is extremely personal, the contemplative also lives a life on public display, an apparent contradiction one is forced to accept. I admire anyone who can do this successfully.

The impetus for The Meditation of My Heart came fifty years ago when I was awarded a scholarship to Creighton Preparatory School in Omaha, Nebraska which I attended for just over a week. For it was with some dismay that I discovered the life of the contemplative was not for me. Although Sister Mary Teracita had tried to communicate to me that a call to serve was not to be taken lightly, that it demanded rigor both intellectually and spiritually, I really didnt know what a call meant. However, my time as an altar boy and lay reader has served me over these intervening years so that today, perhaps, I do appreciate more fully the demands of a life of service in the interest of religion. While such a life is extremely personal, the contemplative also lives a life on public display, an apparent contradiction one is forced to accept. I admire anyone who can do this successfully.