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It was my birthday, New Year’s Eve 1994, about six months after my depression had lifted for good and the happiest summer of summer of my life.  Catharine and I had spent the afternoon cross-country skiing and were relaxed before supper in the lounge of the Laurentian Lodge Club at Prévost, amid the soft rolling foothills.  Outside the frosted windows, the moonlight was glittering on the fresh snowfall; inside, a roaming fire flamed up the chimney of the large stone fireplace.  A splendid dinner was prepared by our talented chef, André.  I was presented with a birthday cake and a rousing chorus of three score year and ten.  I don’t remember feeling happier.  I felt connected in a way I had never felt connected before to these people who were my friends.  I laughed, and it was a genuine laugh.  In some measure I had become real.  I was comfortable in my skin.  As I sat there in the dancing light of the fireplace and happy sounds of singing, I thought of all the people including my family and the Jesuits and my friends who had helped me on this journey.  I thought of how God does indeed write straight with crooked lines.  And then I thought, with Catharine smiling beside me, the best is yet to be.

From Neil’s book, The Inside Story

Jean P.






1 Comment »

  1. 1
    snowfallsnoopy Says:

    Catharine writes: This piece is also in (Neil McKenty Live! The lines are still blazing.) The brand new edition on and from the US publishing company Torch Flame Books.

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