August 8, 2010 THE UNFINISHED IMAGE
The call came in a strange way, late in the evening. The voice of a cultured and caring lady identified herself and said, “Father I just receive a call for help. A woman just called here. It was the wrong number. She was trying to reach her pastor. Then she told me her husband is dying and she wanted a priest. She said she was blind. I told her I’d help her. Her pastor isn’t in and neither is mine. Will you help her? I don’t think it’s a prank call.” I asked for the name and phone number of her caller; then I called the blind lady.
She was waiting for me behind the screen door of her home as I drove up a few minutes later. “I’m so glad you came, Father. I know my husband is dying. We’re both ninety years old, Father. He’s such a good man.” She held a lighted candle in her hand to acknowledge the sacred nature of my visit. Inside I saw further evidence of the faith that helped bond them together. On the mantle were 18 inch plaster statues of Jesus and Mary. On the wall the familiar picture of Jesus in Gethsemane. Elsewhere, images of the saints.
With a certainty developed by familiarity, she took my hand and led me around the corner in the small house to their bedroom. Candle light cast shadows she couldn’t see. “Henry,” she called, “Father’s here.” Henry awoke. I asked about his illness. We talked about their home, built with the help of friends long years ago. “I wouldn’t know where to begin,” I said. “Oh, you would if you are willing to lean on your friends!” he replied.
“Henry, this is no longer called The Last Rites,” I said. “It’s the Anointing of the Sick. We pray that God will bring you healing of your soul and of your body too, if that is his wish. Shall we begin?”
When I finished, Mattie said, “What a miracle this is Father. In my long life I have seen so many miracles. It’s amazing that word got to you of our need. Look, Henry, you’re feeling better already. Thank you so much, Father!”
Priests as a rule never feel good about being called out at night. We’re like everyone else in that regard. Yet, in almost every case, I’m upbeat on the drive home. I’m not saying miracles happened that night. I don’t know whether the word got to me through miraculous means or just through the kindness of a cultured and caring lady. I don’t know whether Henry was even feeling better after the anointing. I do believe it’s important to watch for miracles, however, and to have an attitude of gratefulness that carries us through life.