Huw Richardson was born in Atlanta under a different name almost 59 years ago. I never knew my father nor any of his kin.
I’ve lived all over: I was never in the same house for 3 Christmases until I was over 40. I’ve not yet made it to 4. Rootlessness seems to be a way of life and every time I think I’m about to root, it ends up not happening. Yet I’ve made some amazing friends online. I’ve met some awesome people all over the world. I’ve met religious leaders and heads of state and famous movie stars. I’ve also managed to be debt free.
I’ve stood on the Hill of Tara and touched the Lia Fail. It did not cry out. I’ve kissed the Blarney Stone as well, if you can’t guess. I have illicitly touched ancient, holy statues to see if anything would happen and I have never used flash photography when I should not have.
I’ve been a bookseller, a call center drone, a trainer, a convert, a preacher, a monk, a planter, a secretary, a writer, and an activist.
My patrons are Blessed Stanley Rother, Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, and St Raphael of Brooklyn.
When I was Chrismated into the Church (7 July 2002) St Raphael was given to me as my Patron. He had had some interesting dealings with Episcopalians and his discoveries there paralleled mine, even after 100 years. Although I felt I had accidentally found the guy via Google one day, my pastor wisely noted there are no accidents. Coming into the Catholic Church in 2017, I did not take a new name. So Raphael came with me. Stanley and Pier Giorgio came in as part of my Dominican formation. Both fought openly in the name of God against oppression and social injustice caused by the wealthy and the right-wing in their countries. One was martyred by rightist hit squads funded by the USA, the other died of a sickness he caught while serving the poor. Neither one ran away when things got tough. I can be chicken, though.
When I’m in trouble, they’ve got my back. They pray for me, along with St Rose of Lima, St. Catherine of Siena, St John Henry Newman, Bl Fulton J Sheen, and Bl. William Richardson.
Now I’m trying to serve God as a Parochial Almoner and studying to enter the Roman Catholic Diaconate. If this last comes to fruition, God willing, I will be ordained 29 June 2025. I’m a Dominican Tertiary and a member of Courage International. This is home: I’ve found my roots by using my wings.
What’s next? I don’t know. Part of me still wants to just pick out a camper and gig my way around the world. Part of me wants to own a pub in Ireland and feed my soul with good music until forever, but that’s a dream that’s probably never going to happen now: I’ve promised God not to leave SF without his permission. Part of me has always taught. Part of me recites the blessing of the moon. Another part of me kneels in awe in the darkness as all the stars spin but the cross stands still.
The header image on all pages and posts is a portion of the sky taken from this engraving by Gustav Dore:
When Jacob fought with God he would not let God go until he got a blessing. God renamed him “Israel” meaning one who struggles with God. In Jesus, the Gentiles were grafted into this and the Church is called “The Israel of God” meaning the Church, too, is part of this struggle. Mind you, we’re not trying to Change God: he’s trying to change us. But we’re kicking and screaming the whole way. In the end, God had to cripple Jacob make him let go long enough for God to actually do the blessing. So it is with all of us – wrestling to get to trust.
This blog is an expression of my ongoing struggle to be a faithful follower of Yeshua haMoshiach, Messiah Jesus. I am “working out my salvation in fear and trembling.” If you see anything here that sounds unfaithful to him, please let me know. But…
לֹא אֲשַׁלֵּחֲךָ כִּי אִם־בֵּרַכְתָּנִי
I will not let go until he blesses me.
You must be logged in to post a comment.