I know this
is a few days late, but this meditation has been brewing all weekend through my
busy, hectic workdays and my dear husband’s slow ones. But this is not for him – he already got the
Star Wars trilogy for Father’s Day and one custom card complete with a
hand-drawn Darth Vader from our six-year-old.

No, this is
for the Fathers that probably don’t get many chances to go fishing or get
pancakes in bed or have grand cookouts for Father’s Day. This is for priests.

This is for
the priest at my grade school who always made time to play basketball with the
guys during recess.

This is for
the African priest at my parents’ parish who, while he wore turtle necks and
sweaters in the summer, was so on fire with the Holy Spirit that he got all
those white folk to shout out things like “Praise the Lord!”

This is for
the little priest at my first college who walked around in his socks was, in
his quiet way, so persistent about seeking vocations from our freshman class.

This is for
the little Scottish priest who taught me that smoking is not a mortal sin.

This is for
all the priests of the Pittsburgh Oratory whose prayers, guidance, debates,
example, and fellowship helped to save my husband’s soul and set us both on the
path towards truth.

This is for
the priest who was only assigned to our current parish for nine months, but in
that time showed my children more love than they’ve seen from many of their
extended family members. And who still
remembers our family every Christmas.

This is for
the blind priest at our parish who knew when the tabernacle was opened before his corrective surgery and
dropped immediately to his knees. His
holiness and profound teachings have done wonders for our family’s spiritual
growth.

This is for
the Chaplin at the hospital who so lovingly offers the sacraments, not only to
the patients, but also with special fervor to the employees. It’s not everywhere that the Mass is offered
at 11:30 PM routinely on Saturday nights.

This is for
the priest who introduced our family to another family in our parish who
homeschools. Our friendship with them
led to my dear husband’s new career as a firefighter.

This is for
the priest at the parish where we sing who is now struggling with his
vocation.

This is for
the pastor who was only at our parish for about three years, whose aloofness
taught us something of the transcendence of God.

This is for
the Filipino priest at our parish who had never seen snow and wondered how he
would ever cross the twenty feet from the rectory to the church.

This is for
our associate pastor who has devoted his pastoral career to spreading the
teachings of John Paul II; who has restored reverence and softened hearts; who has constantly given of himself for the good of his flock; who has taught countless boys how to be real
men.

In this
world where the most holy priesthood is bashed from left and right, inside and
out, your efforts have not gone unnoticed. Thank you for bringing heaven to us.

Tu es sacerdos in
aeternum secundum ordinem Melchizedek.