After 24 Surgeries, Cancer
Eleanor, our office assistant, told me, “Father, a friend of mine is very sick. She cannot come to church. Can you come with me to visit her?”
“Yes, of course.”
Eleanor and I drive to the flat where Jean, her friend lived. On the way, Eleanor tells me more about Jean’s condition.
Jean was, if I remember right, in her fifties. A number of health problems meant years of treatment, including twenty-four surgeries! And now, after all these treatments, she was suffering from lung cancer.
We know at Jean’s door. A pleasant middle-aged woman of average height opens the door for us. She and Eleanor hug.
We sit and we talk. What a conversation it turned out to be.
“When some people are diagnosed with cancer, they say, ‘Why me?’ That’s the right question. Why not me? I am not better than others. There is no reason why I should not get cancer.”
We talk of other happenings in Jean’s life.
“This year has been hard, since my brother died. He was my only living relative. So, that’s been tough. But, I have no doubt about God’s love for me.”
Apart from her sense of God, Jean had kept her sense of humour as well.
Eleanor pointed out Jean’s oxygen machine. At times, her breathing became laborious, she had to be given oxygen.
So, too, she carried a whistle around her neck. Why?
“In case her speech fails, and she needs to call for help urgently,” Eleanor explains to me.
“See,” Jean butts in, “Eleanor is jealous of all the nice gadgets I have.”
Jean died a few months later.
My visit to her was a grace for me. She taught me by her serene confidence, deep conviction of God’s love and lack of complaints. And she managed to remain graceful—and humorous.
The people we minister to certainly teach us more than we teach them. They are often our best teachers.
What a great teacher Jean was!
A Teenager’s Confession
This happened at a parish retreat. Participants: Mostly young people, and few grown-ups. One of the men in the group said, “I came because my kids told me it would be nice for me to attend.”
My retreat talks always include one on confession. Why go to confession? What difference does it make? Can’t I ask pardon directly from God? Such questions are normal and sensible, and need to be addressed. I find that, once their doubts are cleared, and they see what a lovely gift we have in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, so many young people come for confession that it is hard to find enough time. So, too, given the choice between kneeling hidden behind a screen, or sitting in front of the priest, most prefer to be seen, and have a heart-to-heart chat. They take their time. Some weep. The celebration of the Sacrament becomes meaningful and even deeply moving.
I cannot, of course, share, even without their names, what any of them told me in confession. Nor do I remember it. But the conclusion of one teenager’s confession remains vivid in my memory. She and I walked around the green campus, as we talked. At the end, I asked her, “What would be a meaningful ‘penance’ for you? What would help you to celebrate God’s forgiving love?” Her very meaningful answer: “Father, God has blessed me with wonderful parents. My mother in particular has been such a gift. But, in the last two years, I have really been a pain in the neck for them. What’s more, I have never shown my mother any appreciation. So, what I am going to do is this: I will write a letter to my Mom and tell her how much I appreciate her and what she has done for me, ask pardon for the pain I caused her, and promise to be different.”
“That would be a wonderful penance,” I told her. “Very meaningful and sincere. Yes, do it, and offer it as your penance.”
(We invite priests, religious and lay ministers to send us inspiring memories from their ministry. Please e-mail to: crimagnet@gmail.com.)
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