Thoughts of hiking Kilimanjaro 5 of5. Unfinishableness

Yes, I know it’s not a word (yet). But it is apt for this cleric’s life. Things don’t have beginnings middles and ends. There’s too much life for one lifetime. There’s always another Lent to plan. There’s not many completions to rack up in a parish. Perhaps it’s why I enjoy the trades so much. The plumbing job gets done. The room is painted. The table is sanded. A past tense is experienced. With people in a parish, not so much. Nor is that even a part of my faith. They say the Mass is never ended. I think that means that the celebration of resurrection is continuous,and our little revelries, however Sunday by Sunday and/or daily, are merely moments we hop on the great train for a time. When we hop off we are mistaken to think the dismissal is any real ending. So it is with the climb up Kili. I guess I did it, but it is ongoing. It got hiked but I am stilled changing by it. Like the people I love but see no longer.
​
My brother called before I left, to suggest I bring back a summit rock to place in the memorial garden of St. LUKE’S, Metuchen. He said our folks would have loved that I did this. So yes, back with a few. And I gave the hiking poles of my Mom to my guide who admired them and needed a pair. Not sure why I kept those when we emptied her house years ago now. Except perhaps that Jerome would need them now. Unfinishableness.