Post by crazgirl on Jun 29, 2010 8:26:16 GMT -5
I told Jacqueline this story when it happened to me. I don't know if she'll remember it or not.
My brother died of pancreatic cancer 3 years ago. He died in May. Two years ago at Easter time we were approaching the 1st anniversary of his death.
I was struggling very much with my faith. And to be honest still do at times. I watched a very young very vibrant man, a man who was married and father to two young children go from being strong to being very sick and frail to suffering a violent and traumatic ending at the hour of his death. All in the span of 4 months and eleven days. Even in his death he was robbed. We were told he had six months.
At Easter...right before the anniversary, my younger brother badgered me, pleaded with me, begged me, and finally convinced me to go to the easter vigil mass with him (we are catholic). I wasn't a willing participant and wasn't sure going was the right thing to do considering that I was so angry with God.
It was a beautiful night the night we went to mass. I remember walking up to the church and thinking that if Jack were alive he'd probably be getting the pit ready to BBQ the next day and sit out with his family. He loved the outdoors.
We went in to church and took our seats. It's funny in the catholic church you have the few who go every Sunday without fail and then you have the folks like me who go for the "important" dates. So of course it was a packed house full of folks who mostly didn't want to be there. For most of them it was because they'd rather be out on the town that night. For me it was because I wasn't ready to forgive God yet.
Hopefully I can explain this so that you can visualize it. Our church doesn't have a traditional alter at the front of the room. Our alter is in the center of the room with three sections of pews facing the alter and then in the back is the area for the choir, the orchestra, decorations, statues, etc.
We are sitting to the right of the alter, about the third row back. There is another section to the left of us (in front of the alter) and then a third section directly across from us.
A few moments before the mass was going to start a man walked into the chapel. He was carrying a small duffel bag. He crossed over the area of the alter and took a seat on the front row of the section directly across from us. This man was obviously a homeless man. The bag almost certainly contained all his worldly possessions.
He was a tattered mess. He wore a suit coat. Wrinkled and filthy, but a suit coat none the less. His hair was long and unkempt but flowed down his back. His mustache and beard obviously hadn't seen a trim in months or more. But there he sat. Proudly. On the front row.
When he sat down there were a couple of men on the front row further down the pew. Ushers. They looked at him but did not acknowledge him in any way. However, the young women sitting behind him rolled their eyes and scrunched their faces up in disapproval.
My brother leaned over and whispered that he'd seen the man in the restroom doing his best to clean up and make himself "presentable" for church. Presentable to whom? God? The parish? Himself?
Mass began. The normal Easter Vigil. I've been to it more times than I can count. They go through the scriptures and recite from the bible the story of Jesus giving his life for our sins...being crucified...and rising from the dead. I've heard it.
I'm sitting their wondering what my brother's sins were. I'm sure he had them. We all do. But I never saw them. He was absolutely perfect in my eyes and no one ever loved more purely than he did. His heart was full..for everyone.
As they get to the part where Jesus was crucified and died, there are sound effects. I always think it's real cheesy. They flicker the lights like lightning and play a soundtrack of what is supposed to be thunder. Same play every year.
But this year I have a lump in my throat. I realize this is what Jack (my brother went through). This is his storm. This is his battle...his fight. The morning he died he "bled out". His aorta ruptured. It was violent and horrible and he suffered. I'm sitting there realizing their suffering was the same. I got very emotional while this was going on.
When the priest "brought us back to today", we did as we always do...we sang. And I looked across at the man sitting on the front row of the pew and I realized who he looked like. Jesus. The hair..the beard...and the serene look on his face. As god is my witness there was a light around this man. And his smile..it was beautiful. And he knew the words to every prayer and every song. He didn't have a hymnal in front of him like the rest of us...he sang.
Now if you're catholic you know that there comes a point in the mass where the priest extends an offer of peace to the congregation "and also to you" we say. He then says "turn now and offer a sign of peace to your neighbor".
And as I was thinking we were coming to this section of the mass I was horrified. I was overwhelmed with fear that this man would be rejected. That his clothes, his appearance, his smell would repulse the girls behind him. His neighbors. That they would shun him and not offer him peace. This man who looked so serene. Would they hurt him?
I can't explain how I felt but I was consumed with this feeling. I was so worried that they would turn away when he extended his hand to them. I started trying to calculate in my head the quickest route to get out of my pew, around the next section and across to his section so that I could offer him peace. So that SOMEONE would accept him. I didn't want to draw attention to him. I didn't want to make a scene. In hindsight I ask myself why??? Perhaps he was MEANT to be seen. I saw him. Did God understand that I needed to see him?
As it turns out the ushers started sliding down the pew towards him. Slowly. Not being obvious. But I saw them. And I knew what they were doing.
Yes he turned to the girls. Yes they rejected him. How sad for them. But the ushers gave him hearty handshakes. And the family on the front row of the next section walked over and offered him peace. And my heart nearly burst through my throat.
And then the thunder and lightning BOOMED. Real thunder. Real lightning. And it poured rain. And if it had been scripted in a movie the timing couldn't have been more perfect. And it touched me to the core of my soul.
And when the mass was over we all stood crowded in the lobby because it was still storming outside. All except this man. He had gone outside and was sitting under an awning. It was after 8pm and long since dark. There he sat. Quietly waiting for the rain to stop. I couldn't help but wonder where he'd be spending his night that night.
As the rain let up my brother and his wife decided we would make our way to the car. As we walked out and walked past this man I remembered that I had a twenty dollar bill in the pocket of my slacks.
As we approached him I reached into my pocket and took out the money. I walked up to him and handed him the money and said here you go. I hope you can buy a nice hot meal with this.
He looked at me sort of surprised and said what's this for. I said it's for you. Happy Easter...buy something for yourself.
To be honest I wouldn't have cared if he bought a bottle of wine with it. If it made him happy that one night.
He thanked me and said he had something for me too. He reached inside his jacket and brought out a ballpoint pen. The white ones with the blue cap like you see all the time.
He handed me the pen and said here this is for you, you can write letters to someone you love. I thanked him and put the pen in my purse and told him happy easter and then we left and went home.
Later that night as I was getting ready for bed, I remembered the pen and went to get it out of my purse to put in the nightstand. The pen had an advertisement on it like so many companies do.
"Angel Graphics".
For the record...there is no angel graphics in this town.
But there is definitely an angel....
I've actually seen this man twice since then. Once on my brother's birthday, and once when I was going through a particularly hard day dealing with the memories of what I saw the morning that my brother died.
He appears for me. Quietly and faithfully.
And I love him for it.
My brother died of pancreatic cancer 3 years ago. He died in May. Two years ago at Easter time we were approaching the 1st anniversary of his death.
I was struggling very much with my faith. And to be honest still do at times. I watched a very young very vibrant man, a man who was married and father to two young children go from being strong to being very sick and frail to suffering a violent and traumatic ending at the hour of his death. All in the span of 4 months and eleven days. Even in his death he was robbed. We were told he had six months.
At Easter...right before the anniversary, my younger brother badgered me, pleaded with me, begged me, and finally convinced me to go to the easter vigil mass with him (we are catholic). I wasn't a willing participant and wasn't sure going was the right thing to do considering that I was so angry with God.
It was a beautiful night the night we went to mass. I remember walking up to the church and thinking that if Jack were alive he'd probably be getting the pit ready to BBQ the next day and sit out with his family. He loved the outdoors.
We went in to church and took our seats. It's funny in the catholic church you have the few who go every Sunday without fail and then you have the folks like me who go for the "important" dates. So of course it was a packed house full of folks who mostly didn't want to be there. For most of them it was because they'd rather be out on the town that night. For me it was because I wasn't ready to forgive God yet.
Hopefully I can explain this so that you can visualize it. Our church doesn't have a traditional alter at the front of the room. Our alter is in the center of the room with three sections of pews facing the alter and then in the back is the area for the choir, the orchestra, decorations, statues, etc.
We are sitting to the right of the alter, about the third row back. There is another section to the left of us (in front of the alter) and then a third section directly across from us.
A few moments before the mass was going to start a man walked into the chapel. He was carrying a small duffel bag. He crossed over the area of the alter and took a seat on the front row of the section directly across from us. This man was obviously a homeless man. The bag almost certainly contained all his worldly possessions.
He was a tattered mess. He wore a suit coat. Wrinkled and filthy, but a suit coat none the less. His hair was long and unkempt but flowed down his back. His mustache and beard obviously hadn't seen a trim in months or more. But there he sat. Proudly. On the front row.
When he sat down there were a couple of men on the front row further down the pew. Ushers. They looked at him but did not acknowledge him in any way. However, the young women sitting behind him rolled their eyes and scrunched their faces up in disapproval.
My brother leaned over and whispered that he'd seen the man in the restroom doing his best to clean up and make himself "presentable" for church. Presentable to whom? God? The parish? Himself?
Mass began. The normal Easter Vigil. I've been to it more times than I can count. They go through the scriptures and recite from the bible the story of Jesus giving his life for our sins...being crucified...and rising from the dead. I've heard it.
I'm sitting their wondering what my brother's sins were. I'm sure he had them. We all do. But I never saw them. He was absolutely perfect in my eyes and no one ever loved more purely than he did. His heart was full..for everyone.
As they get to the part where Jesus was crucified and died, there are sound effects. I always think it's real cheesy. They flicker the lights like lightning and play a soundtrack of what is supposed to be thunder. Same play every year.
But this year I have a lump in my throat. I realize this is what Jack (my brother went through). This is his storm. This is his battle...his fight. The morning he died he "bled out". His aorta ruptured. It was violent and horrible and he suffered. I'm sitting there realizing their suffering was the same. I got very emotional while this was going on.
When the priest "brought us back to today", we did as we always do...we sang. And I looked across at the man sitting on the front row of the pew and I realized who he looked like. Jesus. The hair..the beard...and the serene look on his face. As god is my witness there was a light around this man. And his smile..it was beautiful. And he knew the words to every prayer and every song. He didn't have a hymnal in front of him like the rest of us...he sang.
Now if you're catholic you know that there comes a point in the mass where the priest extends an offer of peace to the congregation "and also to you" we say. He then says "turn now and offer a sign of peace to your neighbor".
And as I was thinking we were coming to this section of the mass I was horrified. I was overwhelmed with fear that this man would be rejected. That his clothes, his appearance, his smell would repulse the girls behind him. His neighbors. That they would shun him and not offer him peace. This man who looked so serene. Would they hurt him?
I can't explain how I felt but I was consumed with this feeling. I was so worried that they would turn away when he extended his hand to them. I started trying to calculate in my head the quickest route to get out of my pew, around the next section and across to his section so that I could offer him peace. So that SOMEONE would accept him. I didn't want to draw attention to him. I didn't want to make a scene. In hindsight I ask myself why??? Perhaps he was MEANT to be seen. I saw him. Did God understand that I needed to see him?
As it turns out the ushers started sliding down the pew towards him. Slowly. Not being obvious. But I saw them. And I knew what they were doing.
Yes he turned to the girls. Yes they rejected him. How sad for them. But the ushers gave him hearty handshakes. And the family on the front row of the next section walked over and offered him peace. And my heart nearly burst through my throat.
And then the thunder and lightning BOOMED. Real thunder. Real lightning. And it poured rain. And if it had been scripted in a movie the timing couldn't have been more perfect. And it touched me to the core of my soul.
And when the mass was over we all stood crowded in the lobby because it was still storming outside. All except this man. He had gone outside and was sitting under an awning. It was after 8pm and long since dark. There he sat. Quietly waiting for the rain to stop. I couldn't help but wonder where he'd be spending his night that night.
As the rain let up my brother and his wife decided we would make our way to the car. As we walked out and walked past this man I remembered that I had a twenty dollar bill in the pocket of my slacks.
As we approached him I reached into my pocket and took out the money. I walked up to him and handed him the money and said here you go. I hope you can buy a nice hot meal with this.
He looked at me sort of surprised and said what's this for. I said it's for you. Happy Easter...buy something for yourself.
To be honest I wouldn't have cared if he bought a bottle of wine with it. If it made him happy that one night.
He thanked me and said he had something for me too. He reached inside his jacket and brought out a ballpoint pen. The white ones with the blue cap like you see all the time.
He handed me the pen and said here this is for you, you can write letters to someone you love. I thanked him and put the pen in my purse and told him happy easter and then we left and went home.
Later that night as I was getting ready for bed, I remembered the pen and went to get it out of my purse to put in the nightstand. The pen had an advertisement on it like so many companies do.
"Angel Graphics".
For the record...there is no angel graphics in this town.
But there is definitely an angel....
I've actually seen this man twice since then. Once on my brother's birthday, and once when I was going through a particularly hard day dealing with the memories of what I saw the morning that my brother died.
He appears for me. Quietly and faithfully.
And I love him for it.
