You Are a Gift

Recently I was talking with a new friend, and she ended the conversation by telling me -

"It was such a gift to receive you!"

I was so struck by that phrase, and just how she had to see me to be able to express those words. I think it needs fleshing out to get to the root of how beautiful a sentiment this is.

We certainly see infants this way, don't we? "What a blessing!" we exclaim, as we grab their tiny hands and smell their beautiful heads. They don't need to do anything - they come with exactly zero expectations beyond existence. One of my coworkers gave birth recently, and when she brought her newborn daughter into the office we all crowded around, gushing about how adorable she is and taking turns holding her.

So why do I sometimes find my eight year-old son annoying? Why are there people we simply can't stand to be around?

Why do we attach ourselves to our phones when we are surrounded by people whose stories are infinitely more interesting?

Why is "it's too awkward - I don't know what to do or say" the top impediment for those who otherwise want to serve those most in need? Do we not realize that more often than not they simply need someone to be present and allow them to open up and be seen and head?

Do we not realize how much of a gift they are to us, even when we are the ones serving?

He is Still Working

Over Thanksgiving break I was reminded of God's love while visiting my family in Phoenix. My first day I was there, my aunt brought me by her office, after which I decided to go to a noon Mass. She pointed me to St. Mary's Basilica, and I headed out from her office on foot.

On the way over, I ran into Raven. He was standing outside Subway asking for help to buy lunch. Obviously I stopped and agreed to help him, so we went in so he could make his order. We got to talking further, and I felt that tug from the Holy Spirit to invite him to church with me.

Raven thought about it, then asked where I was going. When I told him, he excitedly responded - "Oh, the Basilica? I got there for daily Mass all the time. I hadn't gotten enough money yet today so I was going to skip it, but let's go. What time is it?"

So, we grabbed his sandwich (he couldn't eat it without breaking his Eucharistic fast), and headed to the Basilica. It turns out he is a recent convert to the faith as well (he went through RCIA 3 or 4 years ago), and his wife recently left him. He's been homeless since the divorce, which has been especially hard for his relationship with their kids. With all the commonalities in our stories, it seemed fairly clear I was led to meet him on the way and remind him of God's love.

Presentation of Mary at the Temple - Stained glass at the Basilica

Oh, and the Basilica was simply beautiful! Just gorgeous. Raven was so at home there and you could just see how much he loves Our Lord. We prayed the Angelus before Mass, had wonderful music (at a noon weekday Mass!), and a solid homily. The stained glass windows depicted Our Lady's life - the Basilica is dedicated to Mary and to the mission of St. Francis - which was perfect, because it was also the Feast of the Presentation of Mary (a minor feast, but it still felt like exactly the place to be that day).

La Pieta - a copy, at least

After Mass, Raven and I talked a few minutes before he and I had to go our separate ways, but we traded email addresses and left with a big hug and such a sense of joy. For me at least, I was overjoyed to just see God's hands in this - to see His Providence, and watch Him work through me to show Raven just how important and cherished he is.

Here's what I mean: to orchestrate this (relatively minor) moment, circumstances had to align for me to be walking by Subway exactly when I was, with Raven standing there asking for food exactly when he was:

• My parents decided to come to Phoenix for Thanksgiving, which we haven't done in ages.
• I flew in on the red-eye Wednesday morning, rather than the more obvious Tuesday evening option
• My parents had to change their travel plans, so my aunt picked me up from the airport instead of them
• When my aunt picked me up at the airport, we went by her office instead of her dropping me off at the hotel (which she had suggested)
• I decided to talk to the Basilica instead of taking my aunt's offer to drive me over

Beyond that - this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't converted. If I wasn't pursuing God. If my history didn't lead me to have a particular calling to watch for those who are invisible. If Raven hadn't converted. If he hadn't failed to get the money he typically gets that day.

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Hope is tricky sometimes - seeing where God is working, and what He is doing in and through all the painful moments in our lives. Sometimes we just can't see Him in the storm and the darkness. And yet we're supposed to have confidence that He is orchestrating all things for His purposes. For His glory. For our sanctification.

Moments like this? They are such a gift. They serve as reminders in the in-between - when we just can't see Him - and they bolster our confidence and our trust. They are an anchor to hold onto.

I think this is why Israel devoted so much scripture telling stories, reminding themselves of God's principal acts of salvation - the Patriarchs; Exodus; receiving the Law; the Manna and water in the wilderness; David and the great Kingdom. In the centuries waiting for fulfillment of the promise, they had something to point back to.

We continue this in the Catholic Church through the liturgical calendar. We remind ourselves of the Church's place within salvation history, and our connection to the past, present, and future of the redemption of the world.

It's not just Easter and Christmas. It's not even just the events in Jesus's life, as solemn and important those are.

• It's the martyrdom of St. Lawrence
• It's the finding of the True Cross by St. Helena
• It's St. Francis of Assisi receiving the Stigmata
• It's St. Ignatius and his spiritual teachings
• It's St. Faustina's vision of Hell and Jesus revealing his Divine Mercy

It's St. Ignatius, and St. Juan Diego, and St. Bernadette, and the power of the rosary defeating an armada at Lepanto.

Beloved, there are so many reminders. We learn the stories of God's work - His continued work - in our world, and we teach them to our children. But it's not just the great stories. He actually is working in our day-to-day ordinary lives as well - we just can't always see how.

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This world teaches us to despair, especially with constant tragedy posted across the news. We are all one dark day away from forgetting His presence, from thinking that He only used to be present, but no longer - and certainly not in my insignificant life. These reminders teach us to trust when we can't see. Something to point back to:

"Remember what He did? He is still working."