I’m not sure how I got here. I am the son of a Lutheran Pastor. A child with a talent for public speaking at a young age who was almost certainly destined to follow in his father’s footsteps. For a very large portion of my life all “roads” pointed toward my one day becoming Pastor Paul. That was, it seems, not God’s plan after all. There was a period there of youthful anger. Those times followed by rampant ambition and some wild behavior. A stint in the United States Navy, which was a search for both adventure and travel, but also a search for purpose. I married a Roman Catholic, but that is not what put me here. Not directly, anyway. I’m not sure how I got here, but here I stand, and I can do no other. The oceans of water that have run under my bridge, the mountains of personal and shared struggle I’ve faced, and the deep paradoxes that have formed my spiritual self-identity have led me to a place where I strive in earnest, and not always successfully, to engage in formalized prayer twice a day. It is harder than one might imagine. I have a daughter who faces challenging medical issues. She needs transportation to many specialists. That’s time-consuming, but I don’t mind, because she is really an interesting and unique individual with a razor-sharp wit, and I love spending time with her. I have twin boys. They play different sports. I love watching them play sports, so I don’t mind the miles I log on the car or mini-van. Then there’s God. Now that is, indeed, a stark and halting sentence. The stress of the schedule, the constant worry about money and bills, the worry over the health and safety of parents and children, and the myriad other things that crash in on my consciousness, apparently do not fully meet the obligation of my vocation. I know many, many dads who live out a full and blessed vocation through their fatherhood. They are not just good men. They are great men. One day they will hear those most special words “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” I admire many of them and would like to be more like them. Then there’s God. God says, “you don’t get to stop there.” Let me be clear. I don’t hear God’s voice in my mind. I sense or feel this message. I don’t deny that I very well could be a flawed filter. Remember, though, that I don’t know how I got here. I am called to begin discernment on if I will join the Tertiary Order of Saint Dominic. That requires many things. One of those things is morning and evening prayer every day for the rest of my life. The only way I’m going to pull that off is by doing Vespers in my vehicle; hence, the name of this blog. Stay tuned. I shall strive to give you food for thought, and amusement at my feebleness.
Vehicle Vespers 