I quite like this story about Fr. Solanus Casey (known to his family as Barney), cut and pasted from another website. It describes how, at a time when he was wondering which religious order to join, he decided on the Capuchins:
After Holy Communion, Barney distinctly heard the Blessed Mother telling him, “Go to Detroit” where the Capuchins were – and still are – headquartered.
Without question, Barney departed through a snowstorm for three days to arrive at the monastery door of St. Bonaventure on Christmas Eve. Exhausted from the trip, he fell asleep, but was awakened by the sound of bells and singing wafting through the air which was pungent with incense. With joy, Barney jumped from his nap and joined the procession to the chapel for Midnight Mass. In the years afterward, he would tell of the profound happiness of that night.
This story has so many things I love:
1) A dramatic situation.
2) Snow
3) Christmas.
4) Discomfort followed by a reward. I've also written in praise of discomfort here.
5) Voices in the air, my favourite noise.
I'm not surprised he loved the story.
Mind you, this kind of thing works best with snow. In Ireland we have rain, and the worst sort of rain-- drizzle. Dispiriting, but not adverse enough to be bracing.
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