From the Editor

In gratitude for Father Larry Delaney

I first met Father Larry Delaney in 1988 while I was a parishioner at St. Francis parish in Ann Arbor. Father Charlie Irvin was the pastor of St. Francis at that time, and he and Father Larry were great friends. I remember being greatly amused by the banter that would break out whenever Father Larry and Father Charlie were in the same room. Usually, all that was required to get the ball rolling was some quip about the Spartans or the Wolverines – then stand back and watch the fun begin!

A good priest, a servant priest

When a young man is ordained, he has no idea about what lies ahead of him. But then the same is true for newly marrieds, for graduates and for those starting new careers or businesses. So it is not what lies ahead of a newly ordained priest that really matters, it is how he enters into what will come. More accurately, it’s what he brings with him – not just knowledge but, more importantly, people skills.

It's time we rally

When you drive along the brick pavement of Flint’s Saginaw Street, you may be left with the impression that this city’s problems are in the rearview mirror. New restaurants and a new farmers’ market are evidence of the investment by those who love their city.

However, in Flint, 62% of children still live in poverty. Half of the city’s working-age adults have not worked in the past year.  

Visiting the sick

Young people are a special gift to the elderly, especially to those living alone in their homes or in retirement homes. Senior citizens who live in retirement homes may be lonely, even though they live among others. Some of them suffer from an emotional “sickness” wherein they may be tired of all the challenges in their lives. Visitors, especially young people, can help alleviate this “sickness.” Visitors of all ages can give senior citizens a precious gift – the gift of your time and your interest in them. 

Where is home?

It happened a number of years ago at Easter-time, before I had entered seminary. As the evening of dinner and visiting with family began to draw to its close, I said, “I think I’ll go home now,” intending to return to my apartment in Ypsilanti. My mother, looking pained and somewhat indignant said, “This is your home,” meaning my parents’ home in Saginaw. Oops. 


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