The Museum of Thom

Sitting in my corner of the chapel, scatter-brained (sigh)as usual. Pictures of people I want to remember while praying come rolling by, followed by memories of people no longer with me, then places I've been with those people-----suddenly, I'm all over the map, literally and figuratively.

So, to pull myself away from the map and back to the drawing board, I try to detach myself from this space. It's an old game I used to be quite good at---in school, unfortunately. I simply imagine I am now visiting "The Museum of Thom." Thus the room I am in is a kind of DIORAMA like Natural History Museums have, with false "infinity wall" backgrounds, and fake clouds over fake mountains. But all the furniture is authentic from the "time of Thom". See that chair and those kneelers over there? We have reason to believe he used those.


(That's his piano in the foreground and an exact replica of the old chapel behind. Quaint, isn't it?)

I remember Steven Wright saying he woke up one morning and everything in his apartment had been replaced by exact replicas...
Sometimes I look around my living space and wonder what would one of those CSI guys on TV deduce from these digs?


What conclusions would they draw about that person, and what, more interestingly, would they think important. Would they ignore something I think is very important? The point is to somehow become objective, get a different perpective on "my case."

But the true "game" is to look inside me and see what that God, described in Ash Wednesday readings as the one who sees what is hidden, would piece together. Ah, Yes... the hidden life: the things I hide from others because I'm so afraid; how about the things I hide from myself? Now there's the real "Museum of Thom."