... And St. Michael defended us
I (MM) am back from Camp Crucis and the St. Michael's Conference Southwest 2007. Whew.
Given this summer's flash flooding which almost wiped away our guy's cabins, the task of escorting dozens of girls to their first confessions, and the various exhilerating movements of the untamed Holy Spirit, the conference was exhausting, and a fairly accurate taste of Heaven.
Our macho young priests strolled around in their cassocks and intermittently joined in hilarious kickball with the kids or heard their confessions, cheering for them when they emerged from their encounters with God and helping them to burn their lists of sins in a bonfire outside the chapel. Fr. Cantrell beamingly presided in the most paternal way possible. Fr. WB won everyone's hearts, as always. Fr. Whitfield acted just like Jesus. Chris Guptill saved the day; Andy had the nerve to punish my table for undue levity at breakfast one morning. Fr. Nelson dealt with the demons. Fr. Matkin led us to a little more sanctity just by his example. I told a few of the little guys that they should consider the priesthood, and they solemnly said they would. Charles poured his life out for all of us, and taught the guys how to form a flank to protect the girls as we made our perilous way to breakfast. Fr. Jones was pure joy. Deacon Foster served. Gen quietly spread the sweet savor of Christ and had a few girls dying to get their own mantillas as soon as possible. And Fr. Yost kept the Host in the monstrance luna, where it belongs.
Some great pictures are here from Fr. Nelson. I will be posting a'la St. Michael's for the remainder of the week.
Given this summer's flash flooding which almost wiped away our guy's cabins, the task of escorting dozens of girls to their first confessions, and the various exhilerating movements of the untamed Holy Spirit, the conference was exhausting, and a fairly accurate taste of Heaven.
Our macho young priests strolled around in their cassocks and intermittently joined in hilarious kickball with the kids or heard their confessions, cheering for them when they emerged from their encounters with God and helping them to burn their lists of sins in a bonfire outside the chapel. Fr. Cantrell beamingly presided in the most paternal way possible. Fr. WB won everyone's hearts, as always. Fr. Whitfield acted just like Jesus. Chris Guptill saved the day; Andy had the nerve to punish my table for undue levity at breakfast one morning. Fr. Nelson dealt with the demons. Fr. Matkin led us to a little more sanctity just by his example. I told a few of the little guys that they should consider the priesthood, and they solemnly said they would. Charles poured his life out for all of us, and taught the guys how to form a flank to protect the girls as we made our perilous way to breakfast. Fr. Jones was pure joy. Deacon Foster served. Gen quietly spread the sweet savor of Christ and had a few girls dying to get their own mantillas as soon as possible. And Fr. Yost kept the Host in the monstrance luna, where it belongs.
Some great pictures are here from Fr. Nelson. I will be posting a'la St. Michael's for the remainder of the week.
posted by MM at 5:46 PM
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