The Missionaries of Charity, with whom I minister in Cochabamba, Bolivia, offer housing to men with disabilities. My fellow Maryknoll Lay Missioner John O’Donoghue (who has since retired) had been praying for a Christmas miracle in the lives of these men who have suffered so much. But as Christmas approached, there was no proof in sight that his prayer had been answered.
Then, on the last day before the Christmas holidays, something wonderful happened.
Luis, who is unable to hear or speak and is usually withdrawn, went up to one of the staff members with a big smile and started dancing.
One of the other men began playing Christmas music on a boom box. John and I — along with several others — joined in. Even though, being deaf, he couldn’t hear the music, Luis laughed and danced and clapped his hands along with everyone else.
This lighthearted, exuberant display of Christmas joy came out of nowhere. For a magical hour or so, we danced to the beauty of the season. John and I looked at each other and thought: There is the miracle!
A friend of mine in Cork, Ireland, told me that over the years his daughter had slowly drifted away from the Catholic Church until she no longer attended Mass. In early December of 2023, she gave birth to a baby boy. Around the same time, the youth group in their local Catholic parish was preparing its annual Christmas Nativity play. They announced that they were looking for a real baby for the performance.
The father phoned his daughter and cautiously asked if she would “lend” her baby for the play. The daughter happily replied, “Of course! When is the first rehearsal? May the young people please be gentle with my baby.”
Her father was overjoyed. The baby was part of the Nativity play before the Christmas Eve Mass, and the daughter has returned to church. Indeed, God’s ways are not our ways.
Here in South Sudan, where I serve as a Maryknoll lay missioner, I lived and worked for a time in the Kuron Peace Village. I used to walk regularly to the nearby Napil market to buy any items I needed. The kids there knew me well. I gave each of them a piece of candy and never walked alone in the market. Even old men followed me around to get a sweet!
Sometimes in the tin shack stores, there are only children tending the place. One week I wanted to buy some pasta, and a boy no older than 6 years old waited on me.
“How much?” I asked.
“Five hundred,” he said in English.
“A soda?” I asked.
“One thousand,” he answered confidently.
“Sandals?” I continued.
“Two thousand five hundred,” he rattled off. We were on a roll.
“T-shirt?”
“Three thousand seven hundred,” he responded. The 6-year-old Toposa boy had not gone to school, but he had memorized the price of every item in the store!
I traveled in December of 2019 to El Paso, Texas, to help serve an influx of migrants coming from Guatemala, Honduras and El Salvador. One day, we were preparing breakfast and lunch for 20 migrants. For breakfast, we made scrambled eggs. For lunch, we were going to have spaghetti. All of a sudden, a bus with 30 more migrants came.
“Oh my goodness,” I said to myself and then I prayed: “Jesus, just as you multiplied the loaves and fishes, please multiply the spaghetti.”
And so it was. We were able to feed 50 people with what we had prepared for only 20. There was even a spoonful of spaghetti left over.
How could we not believe in the goodness, compassion and love of God for his poor?
Featured image: Paul Jeffrey/South Sudan
