'This Story Needs To Be Told'

Journey of Faith

Deacon Jerry Pratt Jr. validated the idea that popped into my mind about the time the suddenly-black-as-night skies opened up over Evansville the afternoon of Corpus Christi Sunday. “This story needs to be told,” he said, as we stood next to the Holy Door at St. Benedict Cathedral.

Not 10 minutes earlier, he and I were among dozens of people walking with the Blessed Sacrament from Annunciation parish’s Christ the King Church to the Cathedral. Not 20 minutes earlier, he and I were among those braving the intense heat and direct rays of a sun blasting down through high, clear skies.

In the interest of full disclosure – I did not walk the entire route. I shot some photos as the procession left Christ the King Church, then drove to the Cathedral and back-tracked on foot down Lincoln Ave. I met the group on South Alvord Blvd., just south of its intersection with Lincoln.

As we approached the intersection of Lincoln and South Weinbach Ave., things changed … quickly. The first clap of thunder got our collective attention. I marveled, however, at how the pop-up thunderstorm cell was staying northwest of us. The noise increased and we continued the few remaining blocks to St. Benedict, and the skies continued to darken to our north and west.

Lincoln Avenue however, where not shaded by trees lining the sidewalk, continued to bathe in sunlight.

That sunlight went away when we crossed through the intersection of Lincoln and Bennighof Ave., on the west edge of Reitz Memorial High School’s front lawn. Thunder clapped again and again, but continued to sound northwest of us. I never saw a flash of lightning – nor heard a clap of thunder – anywhere nearby.

I had already decided I was going to photograph Father Alex Zenthoefer carrying Jesus in the Eucharist through the Holy Door (see photo on the front page of this issue), and I positioned myself on the sidewalk in front of the Cathedral. As Father Alex started up the steps with the Blessed Sacrament, with Bishop Thompson just behind him, a drop of rain hit the top of my head. I shot a few more pictures and headed up the steps as the last of those in the procession made their way into St. Benedict.

They literally were only a few steps inside the Cathedral when rain started falling in buckets … hard rain, with gusty winds. Pea-sized hail also fell before the cell moved on.

This marks the second time in my life that I truly believe God showed His love and mercy – to me, at least – through the weather. The other occurred about this time 13 years ago during the visitation for Mom after her death. One of my cousins came rushing into the room at the funeral home and said, “You have got to come outside and see this.” When we walked outside, he just pointed to the sky.

I looked up and saw a double rainbow – one vivid and so colorful, the other full of color but faded. One could relate it to something brand new and something older. Mom had died a few days before; Dad had died more than 30 years earlier.

To this second, I believe God showed me that Mom and Dad were together again. On Corpus Christi Sunday, I believe he showed me and many others that He is always with us – and He does, indeed, protect us.