The priest reminded me that Saints don't become saints overnight. They become saints not necessarily because they're extra-special but because they are Persistent. Like a crocus forging on despite the fact that the last snows have yet to fall. Like the cardinal singing his Heart out regardless of the fact that we've all heard that tune before. The back door of my van which insists upon opening at the slightest joggle of the key fob though this is not supposed to happen. My children endlessly calling mom mom mom mom mom look at me look at me look at me daring me to sit up and watch despite the fact I've seen the matinee. Persistence to show up facts be damned forcing even non-interested parties to take note. Choosing to believe that there is much worth seeing much worth sitting up for much to observe on the riverbank opposite apathy despite the bone tiredness in my soul.