I first met Pope John Paul II as “Mr. Seymour.” My cousins and I were playing a game of “funeral,” and trailing a tricycle with the pope’s picture from a calendar tied to it. We pretended to mourn in wails and sobs as someone sang a made-up dirge, “Poor Mr. Seymour, died of a heart attack, but he will soon rise in heaven…”
We hadn’t even made it to the tomb when, my grandmother abruptly ordered us to cease and desist our morbid, disrespectful game. There was no explanation given but I understood, oh I understood, that the Pope was a person who deserved utmost reverence.
Strangely, I re-encountered Blessed John Paul II at his funeral.
Read the rest at Catholic Stand.
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