It would seem Justin and Patrick were destined to be friends — their parents were friends in college and Justin’s great uncle was Patrick’s grandfather’s best man in his wedding.
The thing about being a hospice chaplain is that you deal with people who are at the end of their lives. There are no future dreams and hopes left in this life, but only a lot of reflection on the past. There is one case that changed me forever.
God wants more for you than you want for yourself. That is a fact. As an aging millennial I’m in the weird space where I’m learning to walk in the fullness of adulthood, while struggling with the doubt of uncertainty. I don’t know if you know, but uncertainty will cripple every aspiration if you allow it.
In ancient mythology, there was once a man named Narcissus who noticed his reflection in the still of the stream. He immediately fell in love with his reflection and sat there gazing at his beauty night and day. Eventually, the slave of self-love died of thirst all alone by the stream.
“Mrs. Livingston, you’ll never see your son walk the streets of Columbia again.” The words rang in Carrie Livingston’s ears as Dick Harpootlian, then Deputy Circuit Solicitor, stood before the court, asking the jury to convict her 32-year-old son for murders he didn’t commit.