Father Simeon Daly, OSB - Finding Grace in the Moment: Stories and other Musings of an Aged Monk


Stories

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Family

Homilies and the Like

Miscellaneous

Personal
   A Difficult Moment, ...
   A Moment of Crisis
   A Monk Reflects on a...
   A Musing for Nancy o...
   A Reflection After a...
   A Visit For My Seven...
   Afternoon in Dusseld...
   An Emergency Run
   Farewell to Friends ...
   Formula for Growing ...
   Goodbye to Atlantis
   Gören Ogénas
   How I Saved a Little...
   Jugoslavian Simeon
   Justice Gone Awry
   Kind words for Corde...
   Letters
   Mail Management
   One Last Kiss
   Pilgrimage of Thanks...
   Response at Recognit...
   Rosetta Stone
   Ruth Ann Denning
   Small Beginnings
   Some Reflections on ...
   Some Reflections on ...
   The Cost of Listenin...
   The Mysterious Key
   The Roman Experience
   The Story of a Frien...
   The Visit
   The Yoke of Obedienc...


About Fr. Simeon

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Small Beginnings
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It was September, I remember, that first time I saw the Abbey towers. September, 1936. I quaked a little inside wondering in my timid heart what I was getting myself into. The story of how I heard of St. Meinrad and decided to come all the way from Wyandotte, Michigan, can be told elsewhere. The fact was, I was about to be dropped off in this far away place by my parents, with whom I had pleaded to allow me to come. At this moment, though, out on old State Road 62, coming into town and seeing those awesome towers, I did not have the nerve to let on that I was having misgivings.

In our family my mother was the most spontaneous. My Father was somewhat shy, and perfectly content having Mother take the initiative in social situations.

As we were entering town, Mother announced rather sharply: “This is one phone call I am not going to make.” She was referring to the instructions we had been given to use the phone in the lobby to call the Abbey Porter to announce our arrival. My Father mumbled from his driver’s seat: “Well, I am not going to make it.” My older brother, Dick, assured us that he wasn’t and I in turn said: “Not me.”

We came up the pine tree lined road. The entrance to the place was impressive but a bit intimidating. We parked in front of what we now call Benet Hall. There were no curbs or grass then. We climbed the steps and entered the lobby. The phone was in plain sight. We stood around, silently, for an excruciating length of time, until Mother gave in and called. Her move was not out of any great generosity, but was dictated by the fact that she needed to find a rest room. We eventually met Fr. Aemelian Elpers and Fr. Prior Benedict Brown.

The next morning at seven o’clock they dropped me off in front of the lobby steps and drove off. I stood there alone and very lonely. In time Fr. Aemelian came.

I am now aware that that was a defining moment in my life, a major gravitational shift had taken place. I have no regrets.
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