When the Homily is about Immunology

Fear

Remember being scared of truly benign things when you were a kid? I will admit to occasionally STILL being afraid of the dark from time to time. Some of you may recall an old movie about Bigfoot that dramatized a supposed event in which a Bigfoot crashed its hand through a window and grabbed at a woman sitting inside watching TV? I soiled my armor watching that, and I still feel weird about sitting with my back to a dark window - especially now that I REALLY live in bigfoot country - thinking maybe I should be packing a .45 or 10mm pistol at all times (I'll bet you can google and see if this is deemed sufficient calibre to handle a sasquatch). Anyway, it's funny how these things affect us even into our adulthood.

A long long time ago in a galaxy far far away I used to work for NAPA auto parts and we had this windowless and cavernous warehouse in the back where'd we keep larger parts. We often joked that the place was haunted and this myth was perpetuated because the light switch to shed some illumination on an otherwise pitch black cluttered room was located about halfway inside the length of the room. Thus, in order to get out you had to turn the light off and QUICKLY get out the door before Beelzebub or Freddy or Sasquatch or the ghost of some mass murdering parts technician caught up with you. Apparently these evil entities would begin their run at you from the back of the room as soon as you turned the light off, at which point it was a race for the light which they could not bear. Without fail, everyone reported feeling the need to run - with muffler or whatever in tow - as soon as the light would go out, and always with neck hair standing on end. It became a game to watch the people as they exited the building - despite all attempts to maintain their composure, you could see the relief on their faces for having survived the race.

It's a common thing, and I suspect our little Joe is experiencing something similar lately. Several times he has awoken in the night crying and then begins to make his way up the stairs. We usually hear him as he begins his ascent. Once he reaches the midway point where we have a small landing and a 90 degree turn, the monsters are apparently allowed to begin their run from the bottom of the stairs. Joe, recognizing the start of the race for life, begins running and predictively screaming and wailing as if he were having his liver removed with a dull spoon. Sue has gotten into the habit of herself joining the race in order to prevent the unfathomably loud event from waking the dead and scaring the Sasquathes in the woods outside - but she rarely succeeds.

Making it into Mom's arms and ultimately Mom and Dad's bed is the very same as entering the light outside of the warehouse. I see the same look of relief that I saw on countless adults at the parts store. It's funny, and brings a very real and practical insight for actualizing how we should feel in running to Christ, His Church, and His Saints - all of whom are our protectors. I'll let you decide who or what the monsters are.

Ready? My hand is on the switch...1....2.....3....RUN!!!!!!!!