Catholic Life Ministries

By Lori Fontana

What a day! In just one day, I feel like I encountered the breadth of humanity: young and old, rich and poor, people of all colors and in so many life circumstances. Let me describe.

The day began with seeing our two grandsons off to school. They are bright, curious boys with long, scruffy hair and skinned knees from soccer games and wrestling with each other in the yard. They are loving and sassy, at times cooperative. at other times, sullen and belligerent. Their lives stretch before them, filled with possibilities.

I then headed to the nursing home where my mom lives. She’s 94 and only recently has needed more care. Six months ago, she spent her days playing Scrabble or Bingo, visiting with other residents, attending prayer in the chapel, and even doing her own laundry. Now, she is pretty much confined to her wheelchair, as her legs have now decided they can’t reliably support her. Though physically declining, she is still gracious and caring to others. As we ate lunch with some other residents, she paused between bites to comment to her neighbor, “You look so nice in that red blouse,” and “Try those mashed potatoes; they’re delicious today.”

The other residents at her table were not as aware as she is; some don’t speak at all. But my mom spoke to them with gentleness and kindness. She honored them by greeting them, even when they were unable to respond.

During the meal, I noticed the nursing home staff: the busy nurses who distributed medications and charted medical notes; the aides who cheerfully visited with residents, answering questions, handing someone a drink of water, or helping some residents eat their meal. There were the housekeeping staff members – sweeping, mopping, preparing plates of food, washing dishes. Almost to a person, these were people from the four corners of the earth: Eritrea, Somalia, China, the Philippines, Mexico. They worked with a quiet dignity, showing loving respect to all the residents as well as to each other. Even when a resident was sad or agitated, the atmosphere remained peaceful and caring.

After lunch, I wheeled my mom to the first floor where there is a preschool and nursery. From the hallway, we could look into the “toddler room” through floor-to-ceiling windows. We saw little cherubs of all shapes and colors playing dress-up, cuddling with stuffed animals, painting, climbing, twirling, and at times bumping into each other or grabbing a toy. It was messy and joyful with runny noses and squeals and tears. What energy and zest! These young ones brought smiles to my mom and me, as they do to all who behold them.

From my lovely visit with my mom, I caught a city bus home. The bus riders were people of all colors and dress. There was a lovely African American woman  seated next to me, looking tired but serene, reading a book, perhaps returning home after a day’s work.

Ahead, at the front of the bus, sat a young couple. Their clothing was disheveled; their hair appeared unwashed and uncombed. They carried large bundles and bags and a bulky box of Pampers. While the young man gazed out the window, the young woman leaned forward, seemingly exhausted and trying to sleep. The bus jostled her back and forth, and I worried that she would tumble into the aisle. But she didn’t. I could imagine that the couple was taking respite on the bus, warming themselves and enjoying a few moments of peace.

Behind me was a middle-aged man who, halfway through the bus ride downtown, began to talk loudly as if having a conversation with someone. Gesturing with his hands and shaking his head, he rummaged through a plastic bag on the floor in front of his seat. His loud behavior indicated some mental suffering or illness.

My initial reaction was fear and anxiety. But then my thoughts turned to an awesome truth. This man is a child of God. Yes, he appears to be suffering or perhaps not quite in his right mind. He needs care, far more than I could give. But he is a child of God.

So too the young couple, trying to get a few moments of peace surrounded by their worldly belongings on a bus – they, too, are  children of God. As I thought back over my entire day: my bus companions, exuberant toddlers, the tired elderly folks, my mom, our grandchildren … each is a child of God, God’s beloved.

Life has a way of wearing us down, clouding our true nature. After just a short time of living, we’re not as bright and shiny, carefree and joy-filled as those little two-year-olds. We suffer, we doubt, we fall, we fail, and in the end, we know we will die.

But God wants more for us. God does love each one of us with an unconditional, everlasting love. When I embrace my deepest identity as God’s beloved, then it’s so much easier to open my heart to all my sisters and brothers. I can look beneath life’s tarnish and see that here in the nursing home, here on the bus, here in the nursery, here in my own home, each person is a child of God.

How does that truth make a difference? It means I look upon each person I meet with reverence. I can smile and say hello. In some cases, I’m able to help with a listening ear or directions. In other situations, it may not be wise to approach or speak to the person, but I can look with kindness upon them and say a prayer that they receive the help they need.

One more little story: as I waited at the bus stop that day, a middle-aged woman asked me for money. I replied that I didn’t have cash, but would she like to share my fig cookies? She declined and started to walk away, but then turned back, and we had a short friendly conversation. Rather than drawing back in fear, I had reached out with a humble offer, and we shared a holy moment.

It’s a good reminder: all of us begin life as innocent, pure babies. Then life happens, and we become a bit scuffed and scraped, enduring challenges and disappointments. We are all wounded. But can I rise to the call of our faith? Can I see into the heart of each person and know them as God’s beloved?