In a half awake state this morning, I drifted into my memory of Pope Francis on his trip to America walking through a throng of cheering people. He stopped at one man, obviously a stranger, a working man, and he grasped the man's hand and asked, then begged, that the man pray for him. [I've named the man "George" for my own convenience.] Of course, George agreed...like, he was going to look the Pope in the eye and refuse that request...on nationwide hook-up, yet?
Apparently, the Pope realized that for he stayed with George, holding his hand, and repeatedly asking for George's promise to pray for him, the Pope..."Will you? Will you pray for me?" he asked, even as George was nodding his head in agreement.
And I knew even as he asked George for his prayers, that he was asking for my prayers, for your prayers, for any and all people's prayers. I realized in that instant that in the Pope's eyes, my prayers count. My prayers are important to him...to his very body of work. He needs my prayers as he needs air, water, food. My prayers are his sustenance. Yours, too.
More importantly, I realized that for truth because I then understood that his truest prayers are for us...his prayers are our sustenance. We must walk in them even as he walks in ours.
As I have said more than once, too often probably, I am not church people, but I know (to my own satisfaction at any rate) a saint when I see one. I believe Pope Francis was a saint before he achieved popedom...let's face it, he hasn't been pope long enough for just that to get him there. He's put in his footwork. The pearl that proves it is he continues to walk the working man's walk, do the common woman's tasks, speak with the tongue of a toiler on this earth...plus his smile is of God.
The capstone: He was reported to be suffering his entire trip here from sciatic nerve pain, spinal stenosis, that which is my bane right now. (Lucy just this minute reminded me of that...we take our glory where we can find it, and we don't even blush.)
Thank you.
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