Sadness and Joy

One of the features of attending daily Mass at Nazareth for the past two years has been Sister Angela Wethington. She sings in the choir, and sits almost directly opposite from where I sit. Every time she sees me, Sr. Angela waves, and gives a big smile. Even at the afternoon Rosaries she would come in and wave and smile. One time she asked, "What's your story?" So, I told her that I was a convert to Catholicism, and living life as a religious recluse. She liked that. "I approve of that, we need more of you."

Another time she stopped me and asked, "Were you an Anglican or a Baptist?" I said an Anglican, and she said, "I knew it, and I won the bet." I asked her how she knew it and she said "You cross yourself in the Sanctus at the words blessed is he who comes. Only Anglicans do that anymore."

About three weeks ago Sr. Angela, who is 88, fell in their dining room and broke most of the bone around her left eye, and her arm. It took some doing on my part to find out where she was, but eventually I did, and was told she was sitting up in the balcony now, and would likely never return to choir. I was sad, but glad she was okay.

Today I asked about her condition only to find out she was in the hospital. So I drove myself immediately to see her. It nearly broke my heart to see her eye which is not totally healed, and has extensive bruising. The doctors are trying to get her heart rate to slow down some. All she wants is to go back to Nazareth because "these beds are terrible."

During the visit she did not complain once, nor bemoan her being in the hospital, or show one ounce of self pity. I will end this entry by recording an important part of our conversation.

I walked into the room.

"How did you find me?"

"I asked where you were."

"Why have you tracked me down?"

"You were always so kind to me."

"I was? How?"

"You smiled at me, talked to me, asked me about myself, and waved every time you saw me."

"I did? Well, you were nice yourself. Will you pray for me?"

"I will sister, I already do."