God rocks my socks off...

One experience from the Destination: Jesus retreat has stayed very close to my heart in the past week (and by "very close" I mean "sitting on it like ten-ton elephant"). When Fr. Brian gave us seminarians the chance to introduce ourselves, I decided to take the opportunity to point out that it was at this same time last year that I had just received my final chemotherapy treatment for cancer and that now, in part because of the prayers from those who attended DJ last year, I was standing before them nine-months cancer free. The response to this was another standing ovation and, with tears in my eyes, I thanked them all and assured them that God indeed does hear and answer prayers.

After the closing mass with Bishop Doherty, I was standing outside of the worship space (i.e. the gym) just hanging out and greeting folks as they were leaving. A triad of young ladies came by me and one of them asked if I was "the seminarian who has cancer." I said yes and she proceeded to tell me that she had prayed for me during mass. Humbled, I thanked her deeply. Then she leaned in and in a quivering voice said, "My mother passed away from cancer this past Monday." Somewhat shocked, my first reaction was to express my sympathy and, given that she had just prayed for me, to offer prayers for her and her mother. With tears in her eyes she thanked me. What followed was a few awkward moments as I thought she was going to walk away, but then her and her friends stood near me for a while. I tried to figure out if I should say something else, but I was literally frozen and couldn't think of anything that wouldn't seem trite. Soon, though, they did walk away and it wasn't long after that I had the thought that would haunt me for the next week: Not two hours previous I was proclaiming that my healing is proof that God hears and answers our prayers. Without doubt, this young girl had prayed, and prayed hard that her mother would be healed, yet she wasn't. Did I let her walk away thinking that God hears everyone's prayers but hers? I had the opportunity to say something more to her and I didn't. Did that just make it worse? And if that isn't enough, I had asked her what her mother's name was so that I could pray for her by name, but I hadn't gotten her name, nor did I know what parish she was from. "Excellent pastoral ministry, Petan..." I cynically thought to myself.

As a result, all week I've been praying for her hoping I could find some way to get in touch with her so I can at least acknowledge that I know how hard she must have prayed for her mother and that I, too, am baffled by the mystery of why God chose me to live and her mother to die, but that I am nonetheless confident that God heard every one of her prayers. I was brought to tears at what I felt was the real possibility that she would begin to doubt if God really cared for her and her mother and that my fear of engaging her in the moments of awkwardness might have let her come to that conclusion. This really came to a head today as I approached to receive Holy Communion. As I did, I begged for God to be merciful on me for being so weak-willed.

I picked up my mail after lunch (as I usually do) and in my mailbox was a letter whose return address was in a city in Michigan that I did not recognize. As I walked back to my room I racked my brain trying to figure out who it could be from. I finally made it to my room and opened the letter and that was when God rocked my socks off. It was a letter from this young girl! Not only was she not upset about what I had said or baffled by the mystery of God's providence to the point of real doubt, but she expressed how happy she was to hear that I was in remission from cancer. But wait, there's more... She also expressed how she has come to see cancer as a gift from God (and this girl just lost her mother!) and that she feels called to consecrated religious life! Finally (could there be more?), she said that one of her friends had described to her that I "looked like Jesus" as I expressed my care and concern for her... Good Night! I am glad I made it back to my room before reading it because as soon I did, I dropped down into my chair and wept. All of the pent-up feelings of anxiety, sadness, helplessness, and fear all came pouring out as I thanked Jesus for his merciful answer to my prayer.

In the Archabbey Gift Shop here on the Hill, they have a lot of real "kitch-y" stuff. There is one thing, though, that I saw with a saying that I thought was nice and which stuck in my brain. It was a small placard (probably a refrigerator magnet) and it reads: "God answers prayers in three ways: 'Ok,' 'Not yet,' or 'I've got a better idea.'" Watch out for #3, you might get your socks rocked off :)

P.S. I'm not the only one... check out this incredible story (she must have seen the same magnet!).