When I was a new convert I tried to love God, but I was not obedient. I love bees and the bees came and made a hive inside the wall of our house. They would go in and come out and feed upon the sunflowers. I loved watching them come in and go out and I am sure the honey they made was sweet and the wax would bring forth a bright light. But because of my disobedience one of the bees stung my Father as he was painting the window sill white and the bees went away and the dream slowly became a nightmare. I am dreaming again. Now I want to obey.

I love bees.

We had a beautiful tree, a magnolia tree with pink and white flowers, but my father wanted a lawn. The mourning doves (who were mourning the death of my brother Patrick [and the death of all the faithful departed]) built a nest in our tree and I watched them feed and raise their children. It was heaven on earth. But I was disobedient so the doves went away, and the tree died and the men came and chopped down the tree and even took away the stump with a great big circular saw. But now the doves are back, not in our tree which is no longer there, but arcoss the street, a few doors down. I see them making a nest. Beautiful doves.

Sometimes I think the souls of baptized children are like little angels and the souls of unbaptized children are like little doves.

I know the world can never be perfect, but it can be O So Very Beautiful. Dream on, little children.