This isn’t the first time my I-Phone has altered the course of things for me.  One of our supporters asked for my help on a cancer related issue and in my haste, I texted my reply as ‘At your service’ but autocorrect sent it as ‘At your cervix’.  

Sunday, I was on my way to the flagons, dragons, and wenches of the Renaissance Festival in Connecticut and when I typed in the address for it at 14 Stott Avenue, Google Maps autocorrected it for 14 Scott Street. 

And that took me to a place I’ve never been to before, but to a known yet forgotten land.


The Saint Peters and Saint Paul Church sits atop a rolling Northeastern hillside in Norwich, and it was there I found the 14 stations of the Cross.  It’s a beautiful, bucolic place of pray and it’ll now and always be one of my just circles.  

I walked the grounds, reflected on its grace and glory and historical significance, wept for our loved ones lost by cancer, then got back in my car and carried on to the Renaissance festival.  

Our path isn’t up to us.  I forgot about that.  Shit.  I forgot about a lot of things.   But I just got reminded.  It’s up to Google.  And God.