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I have spent much of today thinking about the Parable of the Bramble. “What is the Parable of the Bramble?” you ask. Understandably. It is not one of Jesus’ parables found in the gospels, it is actually found in a lesser-known book of the Hebrew Scriptures called Judges (9:8-15 to be specific). And technically speaking, it is not a parable at all. It is a fable. I’ll explain the difference in a footnote, because I’m guessing you don’t really care.

Tis the last day of August and tomorrow morning when we wake up, we’ll be entering the “Season of Creation.” It is a season that is only slowly beginning to get traction in the wider Catholic community. Indeed, I did not know the history behind it myself until I looked it up when preparing tomorrow’s preaching for September 1.

Getting to L’Anse aux Meadows is a lot easier than getting to Iona. At least in theory. There are no busses involved, and no ferries. No trains and no one lane roads. There are not even any sheep to contend with. You simply land in the airport at St. John’s, Newfoundland and go to the Budget Rental Car station and start driving west on Route 1… for approximately seven hours. Then when you get to Deer Lake, hang right and begin driving north on Route 430.

This morning on my walk I met any number of school buses rolling through my neighborhood. How could this be?!?! It is still early August! The Olympics aren’t even over yet. In Atlanta, they must like to get the school year rolling early. Even as I am just getting into summer, it has apparently ended already without anyone letting me know. Sigh.

But perhaps the sight school busses in the South is just the nudge I need to make the ask I need to ask before the rest of the country starts school in the weeks to come.

The family home on Walsh St. had four small bedrooms and ten people living in it, so you can imagine lots of toes got stepped on. Literally—as we ran up the same narrow staircase others were coming down. But also figuratively—in the many daily interactions that felt unfair or didn’t go one’s way. The fact that my brother got a bigger piece of pie than me. Or that my sister got to ride “shotgun” while my brother was stuck in the back. Or that I had to clean the bathroom again this week when it was also my turn last week.

What do Al Golden (American football player and coach), Todd Marinovich (American football player and coach), Wilfred Mugeyi (Zimbabwean footballer and coach), and I all share in common?

We all were born on the exact same day. And I’m not just saying July 4th. I’m also saying the same year. Apparently the stars were aligned 55 years ago today to give rise to a number of people who like to kick things around and tell other people which direction to run. Certainly a good description for my mission in life.

So here is the way you get to Iona: First you fly to Edinburgh and then you catch a train to Glasgow, which is only like an hour. And then you catch a train to Oban three hours away, except this one doesn’t run as often and yours has been cancelled, so you sit under a statue of Sir Walter Scott for four hours in the middle of St. George Square trying to avoid pigeon droppings, and then you catch a train to Oban.

Maybe it surprises you to find out I’m in Scotland right now. It rather surprises me. I never had a particular desire to visit Scotland. Nothing against the country, but I’d heard it was rainy and cold… and rainy and cold have never quite been my thing. While working on Redeeming Power and considering the persons I wanted to profile at the end of each chapter, though, I got quite hooked on a Scottish saint: Margaret.

Last week my friend Fr. Pete took my son and I out after dinner for a drive into the hills behind Big Sandy, Montana approaching the Bear Paw Mountains. We had our binoculars in hand looking for elk and antelope and white tail deer. Happily saw all three!

I am now flying over Lake Michigan for the second time today. The first time was at 7 a.m. when departing Milwaukee for Minneapolis. The second time (now) is three hours later as I am flying from Minneapolis toward Pittsburgh. Trust me, I checked. There are no direct flights from Milwaukee to Pittsburgh. At least not on Delta. And I think you are all well aware at this point of my desire not to find myself in the same platinum pickle I did last December.