As I write my final column before entering into retirement, I think back to how it all began. According to my mother, when I was five years old, I played with little statues of saints. My grandmother emptied a kitchen cupboard, where I stored the little statues on a shelf. I would take out the statues, rearrange them on an altar made from a wooden milk box, and I would pray every day. I guess at that tender age, the Lord began calling me.
