Before long I was flying regularly. But I had so many mechanical problems that I was never truly comfortable in the air. My muffler broke off in mid air on one occasion. The prop was sheered and pieces of it flew through the wing making a nice neat hole. I simply turned toward the field and landed gently. I became an expert at sudden engine loss. Eventually it became so expensive that I had to quit the sport. But there were lots of great moments soaring through the air.

One day I was flying as the kids came home on a big bus. I flew down close to them and waved as they got off the bus. I don't know who was more thrilled, them or me! I will never forget that feeling. It was a warm spring afternoon just before dusk. The sun was setting and the shadows were long. There were geese flying close by. I took the para-glider high over the field and cut the engine so that I could coast slowly down without any noise. The wind whistled over the wing and I could hear children playing beneath me. Life just doesn't get any better than that. I sure hope God was with me that day. If not, he missed a helluva ride.

One Sunday morning, on one of my last flights, I flew over to the farm of one of my friends who had been injured in a para-glider incident. Although he had been paralyzed from the neck down, he was what they called high functioning. As I flew low and close to his house, he came outside and looked up at me. I waved, tilted my wing and circled over and over. Then I left with a great big lump in my throat. God was right there. I am sure.

You might have heard of people who consider certain activities to be their version of church. For me, flying was church. It was far more spiritual than any church. It allowed me to enjoy living and nature and the goodness of God. The kind of somber prayers that the Catholic Church advocates is absolutely useless to me. God is not the dour overlord depicted by Catholics. There are very few things of which I am absolutely sure. But that is one of them. Those journeys into the skies nurtured my soul in a way that no prayer could. And God was as close to me then as he has ever been.

Many Catholics are aware of this basic truth. Unfortunately, most of them are fallen Catholics. That is a shame; a tragic misunderstanding of the true nature of God. Note to Catholic Bishops and the Pope: if prayer is a chore, it ain't a prayer.

I strongly disagree with the idiotic idea that you should make yourself uncomfortable by kneeling and rattle off a bunch of stuff that bores both you and God. You are NOT praying. You are eager to finish and you are saying the words as quickly as possible and as you “pray” you are thinking of everything from your sore back to the cupcake you ate for lunch. I say again, THIS IS NOT PRAYER.

And one more thing. I have never met a cleric of any sect or religious affiliation that had a clue about the true nature of God. For those bozos to be passing out advice to the rest of us is a great irony. Fortunately, I have met many priests and nuns like Father Breen, my pastor at St. Edwards. These holy men almost make up for the thousands of clueless ones. Too bad there are so few. And if the conservative ones get there way, even fewer in the future.