That poor, old man

A few days ago, I met a man. He was confused, he does not remember anything to the point that I thought he does not even know how to swallow or chew his food. He is unsteady on his feet because he cannot remember how to use them. He is groaning. He is in terrible state.

That day, I was very upset. I felt that whatever I do, I feel that my anguish, disappointment and frustrations in life is not completely expressed. But, I tried my best to compartmentalize and just focus on what I am doing.

In our Roman Catholic faith, we believe that the hands of a priest- which was anointed during his ordination is sacred. In fact, we have an unswerving belief that once a person becomes a priest, when he performs our rites- no matter what he does- he is an apostle and minister of Christ. Its kind of difficult to accept this concept before but for me, now that I am older, it makes sense. I don't really ask the sales lady in the grocery store if she is married, divorced or did anything that is contrary to my values and beliefs. Its the same with them too. I believe that they are like us, humans but once they perform our rites, they are embodying Christ in that moment.

We had such a pleasant chat. As much as I wanted to say that I gave more, I think that his presence alone healed me. When I met him, I felt at peace, I felt happy. Its a little something that puzzled me even then but, I simply cannot find an explanation. A part of me healed then. I was so close to giving up. I was just too hurt and broken to go on earlier that day. But this priest gave me hope. He made me happy. He healed a part of my soul.