It’s that time of the year in Phoenix, when we really do question why we live here. Could it be because it only gets down to ninety degrees at night, or perhaps because massive dust storms hit without warning?

I would suggest that it is something more fundamental than that: driving. I had every intention of getting a light colored car when we replaced the Studebaker last year, but no, I ended up with a black car detailed with pretty silver chrome. In November, you don’t think about what “chrome on black” does when it is one hundred and seventeen outside.

So how can I make the most of driving a kiln? Perhaps I should start driving with oven mitts?

Hopping in the car the other day, I burned my hand opening the door and my leg closing it. I sat there in my “oven on wheels,” air conditioner blasting my face like a blow dryer on high. Reaching up to get my silver rosary off the mirror, I scorched my fingers. If anything is going to act as a deterrent for Hades, it’s this place in the summer.

It occurred to me at that moment that I am going about this all wrong. I should be “making lemonade” or in this case lemon soup, out of lemons.

If I could outfit my car with some nifty solar panels, I bet I wouldn’t need to buy gas anymore. Furthermore, I could save tons of money on electricity at home, by simply drying our clothes in the back seat as I drove around town. Better yet, if I prepared dinner before leaving for work, I could set it right under the hood and bake it all day while my car sat in the parking lot. After all, I drive around in a Crockpot, might as well make good use of it.

Why stop there? I can dehydrate fruit in the trunk and at the same time grill burgers on the roof at lunchtime. I could have a little roadside café earning extra income to help pay the summer A/C bill. Now that’s using my brain cells before they evaporate.

I imagine what it must have been like hundreds of years ago in this heat, as the missionaries came over from Europe. No air conditioning, bottled water, or cold iced tea around every corner. Snakes, spiders, and scorpions as well as hostile natives who wanted nothing to do with them or their religious practices. More than ever I am so grateful for their sacrifices and abiding determination to bring Catholicism to Arizona.

Today I organized a tour of St Mary’s Basilica in Phoenix, with a group of teens. Gordon, the choir director, spoke with such eloquence and passion of the rich history of that awe-inspiring Church. Over forty years it took to build the beautiful historic structure that we enjoy today. We got to go up in the choir loft and out onto the balcony where Blessed JPII stood as he addressed the faithful of Phoenix over twenty years ago. I felt a great peace as I pondered his presence walking up those very stairs. A modern-day, future saint, stood in the very place that I was standing.

So I ask that we all take some time and ponder the sacrifices of all those who for centuries faced persecution, deserts and jungles, violence and rejection so that we might have the beautiful churches and witnesses of faith that we sometimes take for granted today. Then sit there in those “sanctuaries and havens” and realize we are abundantly blessed to live in this time. Join me in thanking Almighty God for those strong, faithful, determined men and women who by His grace made beautiful places like St Mary’s possible for us today.

And then I have to wonder out loud what legacy will we be leaving for those who will follow after us?