The following is a video Father Chip found and asked to be include here as “sort of a going away salute!”

During November 2007, over 10 parishes within the Bridgeport Diocese participated in “Feeding the Angels Among Us.” Over 750 birds plus fix’ns for a family of four flew out the doors of Blessed Sacrament - a new record! Father Chip O’Neill did all the filming and photography!

Below is a clip from GodTube featuring Wintley Phipps, President of the US Dream Academy - an organization for children of prisoners … “If the mountain was smooth you couldn’t climb it … Five black notes per scale on the piano and you can play almost any Negro Spiritual by playing just the black notes … Slave Ship Captain, John Newtown, penned the words for Amazing Grace after he became a Christian but the melody was based on the West African Sorrow Chant he heard rising from the belly of the slave ships he sailed …”

The Youtube clip below is from the Red Skelton Show that first aired on January 14th 1969 on CBS. Red’s Pledge has since been twice read into the Congressional Record of The United States and has received numerous Awards. It is a POWERFUL reminder of truth.

What would you say to your class if you had one last lecture to give, knowing you would die within the next couple of months? Below is a clip from the Oprah show of just such a lecture given by an amazing teacher, Randy Pausch.

About Randy Pausch - www.RandyPausch.com is a virtual reality pioneer, human-computer interaction researcher, co-founder of CMUs Entertainment Technology Center, and creator of the Alice software project. High-resolution downloadable versions of Randy's videos, including a longer version of this TV appearance, can be found at www.cs.virginia.edu/robins/Randy

Here is a story about hope and not giving up on handicapped children - Go Bruins! It is also a reminder of the power of family, love, human spirit and as Mr. Hoyt says, “You can do anything you want to do as long as you make up your mind to do it!”

Go ahead and ask yourself what you think the Seven Wonders of the World are, then take a look at this two minute clip and one young woman’s answer that rocked her classmates. Note the author of this clip is unknown - it started as a 6 meg WMV file forwarded around via email until Father Chip saw it, hence this streaming flash version - enjoy!

Friday nights used to be date night, but now we’re an “old married couple,” with four-plus years as Mr. and Mrs., and one of the smartest things I ever did was marry her. But I digress; so let me loop back to Friday night, November 16th, when I attended my first Healing Mass at Saint Mary’s in Ridgefield.

The priest at center stage was Father Roy Henderson, and my wife and her people have spoken highly of him over the years; so when Katie, my wife, suggested that we attend his Ridgefield Healing Mass, I decided it would be a good thing to check out, even if on a pseudo date night.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect going in. Both of us had our own list of things we’d like to be healed of - some of it physical, some of it emotional and mental, and some of it just plain tactical, like being healed of dead-end jobs and finding bliss in career service to others.

I had heard about the laying on of hands and people falling over with the power of the spirit. I had heard that some people experienced miracles, and yet I had heard from others that “nothing seemingly happened.”

The power of healing and health is something I’m sort of versed in and know that all healing comes from the Source - God. Yet I think I also understand that Source has a management team and that certain Light Managers are like departments and offices in such that some are more efficient in certain areas than others. For instance, why would we call on the Department of Motor Vehicles if we wanted to send a letter? Hence the Post Office and Department of Motor Vehicles are both branches of one government, a government of “we the people,” but still it is more efficient to use Post Office leadership for sending letters and the Motor Vehicle Department for renewing driver’s licenses.

Thus the Heavenly Management Kingdom has its own branches and departments - e.g., Saint Anthony is awesome at helping us find things lost; then there’s the guidance of the departments headed by Archangel Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and other Love Leaders; Mother Mary is awesome with her grace and gift of the Rosary; and her Son, Jesus, God’s Son, is most awesome in His gift of salvation, friendship and inspiring love and brotherhood among all of His Kingdom.

So when a man or a woman is purported to be a healing vehicle for the Divine, I take that seriously and honor their gift and their role in bringing about healing for the rest of us who are not so plugged into the healing lineage.

Father Roy is purported to be such a healer, and Friday, November 16th, was my first opportunity to see him in action. What a gift it was. Not so much because there was wild drama, but more because of the intensity of community and love in the room. Let me explain.

The scene was not in the church but in the auditorium. From the front parking lot, you walked in the doors and down a hallway; then you turned left into the auditorium, which is a rectangular room. As you walked in, the music team was immediately in front to the left, a congregation to their right, and all to the right was rows and rows of congregation, with the altar and priests up front along the long vertical wall. Normally in church, I hear sneezing, babies crying, people coughing and other human anomalies, but not this evening.

Father Roy and his fellow priest performed the Mass according to gospel. Then, after Communion, he started to explain what a Healing Mass was all about, what might happen, and his role in the process. He had such joy and enthusiasm in his manner as he walked from side to side, and he spoke with such relaxed clarity. Even before he started the Mass, he faced the crowd and said, “It’s good to be back in Ridgefield. I see you all haven’t changed.” With this a chuckle rippled through the house and I knew then I was in for a good show, so to speak.

Back to his explaining of the healing process. He mentioned things like why some people fall over and why others don’t. He also touched on the concept that all healing is from God, and all of us are entitled to His Divine gifts as He loves each one of us just the way we are.

That last part hit me as my compulsive nature and desire to keep bettering myself often leaves me unresolved, frustrated and easily beating myself up for the errors of my ways, so the reminder that He loves us just as we are - wow, cool - and a concept worth repeating over and over.

While Father Roy spoke, nobody moved. No baby cried. Nobody sneezed. Nobody’s head nodded with sleepiness. Everybody was fully alert, almost on the edges of their seats, fully processing this man’s authenticity, gracefulness, and sincerity of heart. It was a beautiful thing to observe.

But when it came time to get in line for healing, something occurred to me that stopped me dead in my tracks. As I looked around at those starting to line up, I saw blind people being lead to the front, people being wheeled up in wheel chairs, elderly people who looked frail, others who were bald from chemo and ravages of cancer, young people with mental illness, and a host of others all looking for healing.

And then I looked at myself. What was I doing here? What bag of stuff was I asking God to heal me of, and how did that compare to some of the really intense things others were praying for? All of a sudden, I felt small. I felt ashamed of myself to be asking for something when it could perhaps be given to others. Not that God is limited and that healings are in limited supply, but it was sobering for me to watch others and then look at myself and my little ego bag of stuff.

I remember talking to another healer, years back, and asking him about his process. He mentioned how easy it is for any of us to send love through our intentions to others across the room. I also recalled another conversation with a high-level saintly person who stated that oftentimes we can be healed by just being in the presence of a great healer.

Thus I took both these two data points to heart on Friday, November 16th, and resolved that I had already been healed by just being in the room with such charismatic leadership, and that I should sit quietly in the back row and become a spiritual cheerleader and send loving thoughts to each person in line as they stepped up to interact with Father Roy.

It was great fun and brought tears to my heart and mind. I was amazed not so much at the human spectrum in desire for healing as much as I was amazed at all the love that surrounded each one of them. Parents, friends, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, neighbors from all corners, accompanied each of those who stood in line.

I cheered for God and His creation. I cheered at His grace in gifting us friends and family. I cheered at His Management Team, and I cheered for His miracles.

If only I had pompoms, my cheering would have been physically obvious, but perhaps it was best to leave it as silent cheers for ALL.

The next day, I was walking our dog and bumped into two neighbors who had also attended the previous night’s Healing Mass. Both of them recounted how they had received the gift of miraculous healing and how much they enjoyed Father Roy. It was fun to compare notes, and when I told them a little about my experiences and internal processing, they just grinned from ear to ear.

“Of course, Chuck, Healing Masses are for everyone, and you don’t have to be sick to appreciate the love that is the house.”

And so, thanks to my neighbors, I decided to pen this piece and encourage everybody to attend a Healing Mass. Even if you don’t need it, go put on your spiritual cheerleading cap and go root for those who do. Just don’t get too carried away and try doing cartwheels and splits!

Viva the healers among us, and bravo to the Divine’s Management Team!

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Click Here for Print Friendly Version of this article (130k adobe acrobat file) - Healing Mass is for Everybody by Charles R. Scott

About the Author

Charles R. Scott, aka Chuck Scott, is an American suburbanite who resides in Ridgefield Connecticut with his wife, Katie, and their toasted-marshmallow yellow lab, Kasha.

Chuck is a writer, photographer, videographer, websmith, business innovation expert, President of The Avanti Group, Inc., and digitally hangs out at www.ChuckScott.com.

Chuck can also be found blogging at www.ChuckingIt.com where he noodles on reflections of all things life, business, entrepreneurship, innovation and technology.

About This Essay

The essay below was written in October 2006 and originally entitled, "Final Wag on Route 35 - Dog Hit by Car and Owners Meet Neighbor's Puppy in an Alley" - It was then first published by The Ridgefield Press in November 2006 and they retitled it to "God Spelled Backwards is Dog" - which is a line from my essay … The text below is what I supplied to the editor and here is a link to a pdf version as it appeared in the Press (a 3 meg 150 dpi Acrobat file) … And here is a print-friendly text version of the text below (8k Acrobat file) …

As fyi, my original essay was over 3000 words - which was after several edits - and when I first sent it to the editor, he was kind enough to respond but his email reply went something like this: "Hey Chuck. Thanks for your recent submission, but it’s too long and it will be a year before the paper has that kind of free space to fit something this long in it … Any chance you can cut it down to 1500 words or less ..??.."

This was perhaps the hardest part, editing it down to essential elements but once I trimmed down on my "ego embellishments", the shorter piece had a better flow and voila - picked-up and printed.

Original Text Supplied to Editor

Final Wag on Route 35 - Dog Hit by Car and Owners Meet Neighbor’s Puppy in an Alley

Ridgefield Connecticut . 07 October 2006
By Charles R. Scott

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon in early October an Indian Summer kind of day with a full-harvest moon waiting to glow forth later that evening. I had just come back from a wonderful Connecticut Film Festival workshop in Westport about The Art and Craft of Visual Storytelling hosted by legendary West Coast Director, Jeff Seckendorf, and was flipping on the office computers when all of a sudden, I heard this awful commotion outside my window facing Route 35. I heard cars screeching, people yelling, and one male voice in particular that shook my soul.

“Nooooooooooooooooo! Oh God, Nooooooooooooooooo!”

From my window, I could see cars pulled over in both directions and knew something bad happened, but could not see through the trees to fully understand.

I immediately called 911, and they promised to send assistance ASAP. I hung up and ran out to the scene but by the time I arrived, it was mostly gone. There was a lone BMW station wagon with a gal on her cell whom I recognized.

“Hi. I remember you from… What just happened? I called 911 when I heard the commotion…”

She turned to me. “Chuck, it was so sad. I was two cars behind the driver who hit the dog. They felt so bad but they only had two feet to react. The dog came out of nowhere. They were crushed. There was nothing anybody could do. It happened so fast. Another woman immediately responded with directions to put the dog in her car and went to the vet. We called ahead to let them know the dog was on the way. I’m so sad. I’m glad to see you again but wish it were under better circumstances.”

I returned home and felt hurt for all involved - the animal hit, the owner whose best friend was suffering, the person driving who was seemingly just going along with the flow.

I sat on the edge of the bed with my wife, Katie, just quietly petting Kasha, our new guide dog puppy. Somehow, we both knew we had just been reminded of the frailty of life. The here in this moment, the gone in the next. It hurt and it wasn’t even our moment.

Shortly thereafter, we started to talk about what we had planned for the day. Katie realized that I was mesmerized by the Film Festival workshops and would love to attend the 3PM one about “Cinematography Formats and What Makes Cinematographers Tick,” so she said, “You go - you need to go.”

I returned to Westport for the afternoon workshop and got back to Ridgefield at 4:45PM, picked up Katie and Kasha and proceeded to embark on a wonderful leisurely stroll on Main Street.

We met all kinds of delightful people on our stroll, most of whom wanted to interact with Kasha. People would reach down to pet her and rub her belly - all of which Kasha was too eager to play the pleasing part as a smart, toasted-marshmallow colored Labrador retriever with great taste in friendly humans.

We had walked from my mom’s office (www.ridgefieldrealestate.com), up towards the Fountain, and started our way back. By the time we got to the Grove Street intersection, Katie decided to leave us and walk directly to Saint Mary’s for 5:30 Mass with the understanding that I would pick her up in an hour.

Kasha and I continued down Main Street to our car. Next we encountered five or six beautiful young women whose internal spirits matched their external radiance. They all said, “We’ve been waiting here so we can pet the puppy.”

The puppy loved each one of them. Kiss, Kiss. Tail Wag, Tail Wag. It was fun to see each one connect, and to see Kasha connect with them. Then another couple came by. “Ah, now we know why there is so much commotion on this sidewalk.” And the woman sat down on the ground and Kasha jumped into her lap and loving caresses ensued. Well, after moments of chit chatting about Kasha being a Guide Dog pup and what that entails, we resumed our walk back to the car. But then I spied two dogs heading in our direction so decided it would be best to pick up Kasha as she has not had all her shots and carry her for the last 50 feet before turning the corner into the alleyway.

All of a sudden, a blue car pulled into the alley and stopped. A man got out and walked directly to me, and without any words, grabbed Kasha. Not an aggressive grab but a reaching out like, “Hey man, I’d like to hold your dog like you are holding her,” and on some level I intuited it was okay thus willingly handed her over from my breast-holding position to his.

From the driver’s side of the blue car exited a woman, whom I later learned is his wife. She had a smile and a quizzical impression while he cuddled Kasha with love and respect. His eyes were slightly red and swollen, but I thought maybe he had allergies.

His wife then explained, “We lost our dog today. It was a basset hound and was run over by a car earlier today. My husband is grateful to pet your dog.”

“Do you live on Route 35 around Fox Hill?” I asked.

“Yes, that was us and our dog.”

I was blown away. The irony of moments and timing confused me - e.g., how was it God would subject me to bear witness to hear such awful, painful, soulful loss, yet then conspire to place Kasha a few hours later on a Main Street alleyway at perfect timing with the blue car turning into the alleyway in order to perhaps foster some puppy seeds of healing? Yeesh! The Divine’s timing is of a watch all His own.

We compared notes and talked about what had happened. I learned that the dog was 4 years old and was his dog. They had been through everything together. They feasted and went through famine. They were buds and soul food for each other on all meaningful levels. The wife came later and seemed to intuit the bond between man and dog and honored them both.

Our encounter in the alley was tear-filled yet somehow hopeful. I asked about his relationship with his bear and what they did together and what she meant to him. And then I asked him, “So are you going to get another one?” And without hesitation he said, “Yes.”

I cheered. “So, the canine brotherhood helped you understand how great it is to live a life with them, versus living a life without them” and he retorted, “Absolutely.”

While he was hugging Kasha, I gave them a card for Guiding Eyes for the Blind (www.guidingeyes.org) and mentioned there are lots of pups waiting for great homes like his.

Long story short, I don’t know why anything happens, let alone grief and tragedy. But, I can’t help thinking that God spelled backwards is dog, and when it comes to Divinity and perfection, I wouldn’t trade a loving tail wag for anything.

In summary, bravo to the four-leggeds who give us unconditional affection, and double bravo to the Divine for His sensibilities in gifting us with spirited four-leggeds with tail-wagging paws of affection. Woof On!

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