Joseph Foley's Blog

I have 2 new announcements today!

My short stories collection, "Twisted Minds" is now available in hard copy at Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Twisted-Minds-...

Also, The second release of "The Wormwood Letters is available at Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/Wormwood-Lette...

Heavenly Father, You have watched over our nation from its birth, For two hundred years You raised it to greatness. Then we turned on You, rejecting Your ways and ignoring Your guidance.
Now we are on the brink of collapse.
We call out to You for help; hear and answer our plea.
Stop the enemies of all that is good. Bring them down from their seats of power. Help our leaders to know and follow Your ways. Teach our people what is good.
Your faithful servants will praise your name and go to battle against the evil one. With You at our side we fear no one.

After six months of painfully tedious struggle, my favorite business deal is heating up in Barcelona. Damn, I don’t really have time but I need to be there now. I catch a flight and after ten tiresome hours on airplanes and a couple more waiting in airports, I step out into the late morning warmth of a beautiful Barcelona day. The cloudless azure sky and gentle breeze bring visions of past idle days on the beach into my tired mind. But there is no time for that; I take the first taxi in the line and we set off for the city center. A nice hot shower and a nap would be blissfully pleasant but there is no time for bliss; I have work to do.
Twenty minutes of sitting in traffic and I arrive at the office. The receptionist finds a place to stash my bags while I run to the bathroom to splash a little cold water on my face and smooth the wrinkles out of my traveling clothes. Thank God, she thought of getting me a coffee. I down the double espresso and open the door to the meeting room. I take a deep breath and dive into the fray.
We effusively exchange the standard pleasant greetings and almost immediately set out for a Spanish business lunch. After a few bottles of wine and a great meal the folks loosen up and we get down to real business. Four hours later and with a nice increase in my net worth almost in the bank, I say hasta leugo and head for the hotel. These guys are tough, I have to back off for a while. I’m too tired to battle with three attackers at once. We’ll be back at it on Monday anyway. In Spain deals are never closed in a single meeting.
The hot water spraying over my exhausted body is better than sex right now. I stand there for minutes without the slightest movement, savoring the hot massage so graciously provided by a steel shower head. Finally I turn the water off and step out. I really want some sleep. The bed is comfortable and the room is silent but sleep is not an option for me now. My body says it’s midday and not time to sleep. I toss and turn for about a century before I look at the clock and see that only five minutes have passed.
I manage to get out of bed, get dressed and walk into the heart of the old city before I catch my second wind for the third or fourth time in this extended thirty-six hour day. I walk through the swarms of people on Las Ramblas like a zombie. I smell the flowers and I hear the birds but I am not really here. Most of the people don’t notice me in the mass of moving humanity, but those who do, stare at me as if I had a monkey dancing on my head.
Although the streets are familiar, I am in a place I have not been before, a place where business is not important, where success is not measured in dollars, or euros.
I am here in Barcelona completely alone, painfully alone, and now I am wondering – why? Suddenly, I don’t want to have a business. I don’t know what I want. I have always wanted something more than what I had, but now what I have seems unimportant, and what I am struggling to achieve seems absolutely meaningless.
“How can a million dollars be meaningless?” I ask myself.
I don’t answer because I hate to lose arguments with myself. I walk aimlessly through the twisted streets of the old city and somehow I arrive at the Plaza del Pi. I have walked past the massive old church of Santa Maria del Pi many times before but now it seems inviting. There is something reassuring about a building that has stood unchanged for five hundred years representing an organization that has survived for two thousand years.
Inside the church I sit quietly in the shadows, surrounded by cold stone and windows made with images of people better than me. The dimly colored light from those stained glass windows creates a universe separated from the world outside, unique, quiet, peaceful. The boisterous cacophony of the street is filtered down to a pleasant background murmur here. But I can only observe the calmness, never participate.
The old wooden kneeler was worn from the many years of others kneeling there and pleading for help. God has such patience. After thousands of years of pleas he should have given up on all of us. But there I was asking again for help and I was not instantly struck down by a fiery bolt of lightning. So I ask God for help with no apologies, no ‘excuse me sir’. I just ask for help. There is silence in the church but the entire universe screams at me. I asked a question and I get an answer but I don’t understand the answer He gives me.
“God, what is it that I should be? Why did you put me here, what do you expect of me?” I ask. But those are not the real questions I am asking. I know and God knows it is a much different question that exists here, unasked but still answered with overwhelming energy.
The silence in the old church screamed at me and it echoes off the cold stone walls reverberating to infinity. But there were no words. Talking with God is very hard; His voice is so big.
“Please God, stop shouting. I can’t hear you when you shout,” I plead. With moisture in my eyes, I get up and walk to the door. I’ll try this again later, when God has settled down a bit.
A short walk through the old city brings me to the Temple Bar, a little snippet of Ireland buried deep in the Barcelona old city. I can get a pint of Guinness here. It’s not yet evening on a Saturday; it will be nearly empty and I can be alone. I feel a desperate need to be alone.
Far in the back of the now quiet pub there is a small, dark nook. I sit on the cushioned bench quietly sipping my beer. The worn old cushions are comfortable and the cold beer is refreshing. But much too soon, the questions return. They are not simple questions like, “What is the meaning of life? Why am I here? What am I supposed to do?”
These are hard questions like … why?
Can a feeling be a question? Can the answer be another feeling? What does a feeling really mean?
A bar is not a good place to find answers to questions like these, or, it may be the best place. With a few pints of beer I can stop protecting myself and my well rehearsed answers that have kept me going all of these years. If I am mellow enough I can listen to the shouting and understand the words. But are the words that I hear from God? Are they from me? from alcohol?
No, this is not the right place. I finish my beer and walk out of the soft darkness of the bar into the bright, hot sunlight. My eyes hurt as the still brilliant sun burns through my eyes and scalds my brain.
There are so many people here who seem so happy. The street is full of young couples holding hands and smiling at each other. Groups of raucous young men walk by laughing at life. An old man and woman walk by locked together without touching, communicating without speaking, grown into a single unit after all of their years together. Two young ladies laughing and talking pass by without seeing me or anyone else. A young couple passes by, eyes locked on each other, unaware of the world around them.
Their happiness seems odd; why should all of these people be so happy when this is just another of the millions of days that have passed and will continue to pass by? Yet I am not unhappy. I’m not sure what happy really means. Is happiness just the absence of sadness like cold is the absence of heat?
Do they never face these questions or do they already have the answers? Nice, neatly packaged answers with a pretty ribbon around them and a bow on top. Do this, and then do that, and happiness will be yours. How wonderful it would be to know everything that might be important or interesting in your life. I used to think I had all of the answers, but now I know that I have never before asked the questions. Answers are easy when there are no real questions. Have all of these people failed to ever ask the questions? Can one live an entire lifetime and never ask why?
With no destination in mind, I walk through the crowded streets looking and listening. So many people with so much to do, they all hurry back and forth rushing toward their death as fast as they can. No one stops to talk to a stranger; many are not talking to anyone, just running their lonely race with infinity. A few lost individuals are just sitting and waiting for infinity, an empty beer bottle at their side. Perhaps I will join them; there is a strange peace that seems to be available by surrendering everything and waiting for death.
Somehow I have arrived at the church once again. The doors are open now and people are going in; I guess I’ll join them and try to talk with God once more. I climb the stairs and enter through the massive doorway. Many people are seated and more are entering. People are preparing for a service of some kind. I sit in a dark corner where no one will notice me and wait for whatever might come next.
“God, are you still here?” I ask timidly.
No answer, I guess He didn’t like it when I walked out on Him earlier. I don’t think I want to know what happens when you irritate God.
The service begins, a Saturday night mass. People are praying, singing; reverence and peace surrounds me. Why don’t I get any of this peace? I guess God is too busy with all of these good people to bother with me. After all, I ignored Him for most of my life; I shouldn’t expect top billing.
“We’ll talk later God”, I promise, hoping that He is making the same promise back to me.
The service ends and the good people return to their race with death outside. Back out into the street they hurry; there are so many things they must do right now.
I slowly walk into the gathering darkness, tired and confused. The excitement and noise of Barcelona at night is beginning to build. Soon the abuelas and abuelos, the ninas and the ninos will be sleeping quietly. Those closest to infinity rest easier, the rest of us struggle, always searching without knowing what it is we hope to find. A night of hard drinking will just erase the questions but never bring any answers. Yet the crowds are beginning to gather. Many of my fellow wanderers need to be busy erasing for a while. Getting answers is so much harder than forgetting the questions.
Outside one of the clubs I stand in the shadows, looking inside, listening to the loud talk and the constant laughter. I can go in and join the noisy, laughing crowd. I can go back to the church and try to deal with the answers I am being given. I can stand here and wonder.
I reject all of the obvious options and turn away and walk slowly down to the sea.
There is just enough breeze to make the slightest sound of the surf audible to my tired ears. I walk along the beach to the quiet area below the walk. Soon the homeless and the drunks will be finding a place to sleep here but, for the moment, I am alone.
“God, are you here? Do I have to be in church to talk to You?” I ask aloud.
I think even Gods voice can’t be so big here. But I have been wrong before.
I sit in the sand and wait for an answer. There is no shouting like the experience in the church, just silence.
I think maybe God works with us however we choose. I wanted answers right away in the church and I got them, all at once. Now I want peace, perhaps understanding will follow if I wait long enough.

I had a life changing experience late in 2018. This is the story of that experience.
As I pulled hard on the gnarled old buckthorn tree that was hung up in the branches of another tree, a pain suddenly went through my Jaw as if it were being squeezed in a vice. Surprised by the intense pain, I released the tree and started walking toward the house when a feeling of lightheadedness started coming over me. I made it into the house and flopped into my chair while calling to my wife Judy, “Something is wrong! I’m dizzy and my arms are tingling.”
Then the pain came. The most intense pain I had ever experienced spread from my chest through my whole body, a searing, tearing pain that felt like my body was being torn apart.
I didn’t know if Judy heard me or saw me or responded, but I couldn’t call again. The pain was so intense that nothing in my body would work. I curled up in pain and prayed aloud, “Jesus help me!” over and over. I didn’t care what the help would be; I just knew that I needed help. If this was my time to go to the Father, I needed Jesus with me to help and support me. If I was to stay here on earth, I needed help to bear the pain and to work through whatever was going to be needed for recovering. Whatever happened, I needed help and I was pleading for it.
Meanwhile, Judy had heard me and was responding with astonishing speed and clarity. My pleas to Jesus for help were coming through to her loud and clear. She called 911 and had an ambulance on the way as quickly as possible. Next, she called our children who all live nearby and let them know what happened. While she was still on the phone, the ambulance and one of our sons arrived at the house at almost the same time.
During this frantic time, Jesus already helped me by letting me fade out of consciousness. The first thing I was aware of after pleading for help was the face of a stranger looking at me and apparently talking to me. Then I realized that Judy, my son and his wife were there and a police officer as well. The pain was gone and I was confused but I knew something bad had happened and the concern in the faces of everyone around me reinforced that idea.
The stranger was one of the EMT’s who had come to bring me to the hospital. On seeing that I was awake, he asked me if I could get up and step over to the gurney that they would use to transport me. With one of them holding each of my arms, I tried to stand up but my legs immediately buckled. I had no strength at all. So they moved the furniture around, got the gurney next to me and hoisted my limp body onto it.
Apparently I was drifting in and out of consciousness. I remember the EMT asking which hospital I wanted and suggesting that Fairview Southdale would be a good choice if I was having a heart attack. I assume I agreed since the next thing I remember is being taken from the ambulance into the emergency room and seeing several of my family members already there.
I have no recollection of the emergency room or any of the activities there. The next thing I remember is lying in a bed in a regular hospital room with several of my family around the bed. Everyone was assuming that I had a heart attack and they were waiting for the results of the blood test for confirmation. Then a doctor came in and said the tests were negative. My symptoms all said heart attack but the blood tests showed there was no heart attack.
The doctor said they would keep me overnight for observation and that I would probably be going home in the morning. Father Wilson had come and given me the sacrament of the sick. It seemed that everything had settled down and the entire incident would soon be in the past. I ordered food for my dinner and the family decided to go out for something to eat and then return before going home for the night.
Judy also had called All Saints church to get one of the priests for me and that call alerted all of the prayer warriors to my situation. Just moments after her call I had dozens of people praying for me and the army grew as the news spread. All of the daily mass people, the Emmaus men, several men’s and women’s groups and all of my friends at All Saints as well as the Emmaus men from St John Neumann were praying for me. In just one day I had hundreds of people asking God to watch over me and care for me.
Now those prayers were being answered. My room was dark, too dark for the time of day, and there seemed to be a number of people there but I couldn’t identify anyone. There was a tray of hospital food on the stand next to my bed, untouched. As I lay there wondering where I was and what was happening a man clad in bright yellow, almost glowing, walked through all of the dark forms and came to the bedside.
“Hello, I am Adam.” He said to me as his only introduction. “I would like to listen to your heart if that’s all right.”
I don’t remember responding but I must have given him the ok. He was moving his stethoscope around on my chest, stopping several times to listen intently. After a moment or two, he stopped to tell me, “I think you will be fine but I would like to get a CAT scan, just in case.”
I said that would be fine and a moment later there was a gurney next to my bed and a couple of people lifting me on to it. They wheeled me to the room where the scans are done and transferred me to the platform of the scanning machine. The platform moved into the tube and the machine began humming and clunking. I was slowly moved in and out of the tube twice.
When I came out the second time the room was filled with people. I was immediately moved onto a gurney and, almost running, they took me to an operating room. The room was already buzzing with activity as they prepared for an emergency surgery.
A face appeared next to me, completely surrounded with operating room protective covering. I could only see a small circle of a face with the eyes, nose and mouth visible. “I am Doctor Kelly. You need an operation that has high risk but must be done immediately. I specialize in this and I had a case exactly like yours just a couple of weeks ago and it went well. We have a highly skilled team here and I think it will go well for you also but I must not minimize the risk. It is a serious and high risk procedure.”
I think she said more but I don’t remember what it was. I drifted off into unconsciousness as the anesthetic took effect. This was about six PM on a Saturday afternoon.
The surgery was in progress long into the night ending at about three AM Sunday. During this time, my family gathered in the hospital meditation room and prayed the chaplet of divine mercy with one of my grandsons leading the prayers. I later found out that more than ten people were there praying for me that night.
Sometime on Monday (as I was told later) I awoke slightly and briefly. I vaguely recall seeing Judy and others from my family standing at the end of the bed looking at me. As I was lying there, I had the most wonderful feeling of peace and joy. I had a vague memory, almost more of a feeling, of having been in a beautiful, peaceful and joyful place.
Tuesday I awoke enough to begin responding to the world around me and recovering from the surgery. I had survived an aortic dissection, something that kills four out of five people who have one before they can reach medical help.
I could have easily ignored the initial pain in my jaw since it only lasted a few seconds. In which case, I probably would not have made it into the house and Judy would have later found me dead in the yard. As it was, I only made ten or twelve steps into the house before I was completely debilitated by pain.
And then, Judy could have been away shopping or visiting with someone. When she returned, she wouldn’t have seen me unless she came into the living room. If that was some hours later, it would have been too late.
I could have been taken to Fairview Ridges which is the nearest hospital to my house. They would have had the same result of the blood tests for heart attack and would probably come to the same conclusion as they did at Southdale – keep me overnight for observation. But Doctor Adam would not be there to correctly diagnose my problem. Perhaps they could have had someone on staff who was able to diagnose it but then I would have needed a transfer to Southdale for treatment. The delay and the additional transporting would probably have been too much for me to survive.
Adam, that is Dr Adam May, should not have been there since he was substituting for another cardiologist. He was not a member of the hospital staff or the University of Minnesota Physicians group. He had very recently completed a training seminar on diagnosing aortic dissection. If he had not been there to correctly diagnose my condition, I would have been found dead in my hospital bed that night.
The surgeon, Dr. Kelly, should not have been there; she is the department head and happened to be on call that weekend. I should have had a less experienced and skilled surgeon, increasing the risk that I would not have survived the operation.
So, why did I suffer an aortic dissection and with all of the reasons why I should not have survived it, how is it possible that I am still alive?
God has a purpose for everything and my experience was a part of His plan. While I certainly don’t know God’s plans, I believe a person can sometimes understand His intent by prayerfully looking back at what has happened and trying to see the results. Some results may not be seen for a very long time but some become apparent quickly.
In my case, clearly it was not God’s will that I should die at that time; there is still some reason that He wants me to remain here for a while. But there was some reason why the event needed to occur at all.
One of the quickly visible results of this incident is that my faith in the effectiveness of prayer was greatly strengthened. I prayed for help from Jesus but I didn’t try to tell him what I wanted Him to do. Whatever God wanted is what I wanted but I knew I needed help to do it and I prayed for whatever help was needed.
When I prayed for that help, the pain ended almost immediately and it never came back! I had no pain as the ambulance bumped and jolted over the roads. There was no pain when I was moved to the emergency room or with any of the other moves that I had before surgery.
After the surgery, I had no pain. That was partly due to the amazing medical technology we have today but even the best technology does not completely eliminate pain. They had oxycodone ready for me but I declined it because I had no pain other than a slight ache in my back. I took the Tylenol they offered so I would be able to sleep but I declined even that after a couple of days because it was not needed; I simply had no need for pain treatment. I was not being the “macho man” and toughing it out to show the world I could take it. Truly I felt no pain even though my body had been shut down and my chest had been split open and the doctor cut away crucially important parts, attached an artificial pipe to my heart and wired my rib cage back together. I had Jesus to thank for that amazing blessing.
My amazingly fast recovery has also demonstrated the power of prayers. When the physical therapist came to the house to help me get moving, she saw what I was doing and told me to keep it up. She wouldn’t be coming back since I was already doing great. Within a month of the surgery I was nearly back to normal. I have to thank the army of prayer warriors for that blessing.
There is another result that I have not seen yet but I know is coming. During the time I was disconnected from the world under deep anesthesia, I was with God. I remember waking with a deep and long lasting feeling of spiritual consolation. Saint Ignatius described spiritual consolation as “some interior movement in the soul is caused, through which the soul comes to be inflamed with love of its Creator and Lord”. God gives us consolation because He loves us but also to draw us closer to Him and to strengthen us in our faith.
The wonderful feeling of peace and joy is still with me ten weeks after the surgery. That consolation had to come from God; peace and joy are usually not the result of medical emergencies and surgery. When I have received a consolation as strong as this, I can only assume that God has something important for me to do and is preparing me for the task.
I am ready Lord! Whatever it is that You want me to do, with Your help I will do it.