The above trumpetyesque flowers are not the trumpet vine flowers below:
There was recently a comment on a blog I do not own which identified Father Gordon J MacRae and yours truly, Father George David Byers, as being one and the same person, I suppose because our names both begin with “Father G.” My first thought is, poor Father Gordon! I mean, that’s a compliment for me but should he have to wear that part about being me? That’s just not right. People have also done this for years with Father Z and myself, even though “Z” and “G” appear in different places in any alphabet. As it is, I’ve never personally met either Father G (you know, the other one) or Father Z, though we have lots of contact with each other.
I stand in solidarity with and have defended (ad nauseam for some) both Fathers Z and G (you know, the other one), not that Father Z nor Father G (you know, the other one) need any defense whatsoever, especially from the likes of this North-woods and now back-ridge mountain boy some call Father G (you know, yours truly). Anyway, this is a problem should yet another Father G (my spiritual director, Father George) make his way to the parish on Highway 64, which is named after yet another Father G altogether (ol’ retired Father George). What to do? Hey! I know! Just call me Pope George, but, oh, wait, that’s taken already: Pope Jorge (George) Bergoglio of Saint Francis fame. Sigh. I have no identity of my own whatsoever. I’m just another Father G lost in a sea of those called Father G.
Or maybe I could just give up finding my identity through the unfixable confusion of others and discover that I find my identity in Jesus Christ, Divine Son of the Immaculate Conception, who willingly stood in my place taking on my identity as the worst sinner ever, knowing that I’ve tortured Him to death on the cross with my sin, and He then having the right in His own justice to command His/Our Heavenly Father: “Father, forgive them!” I’m happy that in Italian, Jesus is just another Father G = Gesù = Jesus. ;-)
And should I really need to carry this on to the extreme, the name of our Heavenly Father is also Father G, that is Father George: ὁ πατήρ μου ὁ γεωργός ἐστιν (John 15:1) — “My Father is George,” that is, the Farmer, the Tiller of the Ground, you know, the Adam of the Adamah. ;-)
I think I just have too much fun. Probably because the Immaculate Conception, standing under the cross, has a big enough heart to take in all those called Father G, and I’m very, very happy about that, and that’s where I find my identity, one loved by Jesus and His good mom even while I’m yet a sinner. I could dance I’m so happy. And I won’t be shamed into stopping dancing by those of sour face fame: