Too late to thank priest who reached out to us
http://www.boston.com/news/local/articles/2009/02/08/too_late_to_thank_priest_who_reached_out_to_us By <http://search.boston.com/local/Search.do?s.sm.query=Beverly+Beckham&camp=localsearch:on:byline:art>Beverly Beckham February 8, 2009 He was a priest in his 50s and she was a child in my arms, and he embraced her from the first time he met her. Father David Ziomek loved Lucy from the get-go. He called her "my friend Lucy" and looked deep into her eyes. And, always, always, she smiled into his. She wasn't quite talking or walking when they met. I would hold my granddaughter on my lap during Mass and carry her to the altar at Communion. And he'd put a hand on her head and whisper, "How's my friend Lucy" and bless her. And after Mass or before, going up or down the center aisle, he would pause in his procession to talk to her. We weren't even real parishioners. We were strays who wandered into his church irregularly. For three years we've continued coming and going to St. Elizabeth's in Milton whenever we can, when one of us isn't sick or somewhere else. For months we'll show up week after week like most everyone else, and then for months we won't. The only constant has been the welcome we've received in this church from Father David and the many parishioners we've met. So many good things have happened to us at St. Elizabeth's. Lucy took her first consecutive steps all the way down the center aisle of this church one spring day a few years ago. She went from tentative to sure in less time than it takes to sing a hymn. She went from sitting next to me to sitting up on the altar with all the other kids, too, at Father David's monthly children's Mass. I loved these services because he used props, like the best teachers, and talked directly to the kids, not to the adults. Last year on Valentine's Day, using a big red paper heart, he got the kids talking about hearts and love and God and candy, too. Lucy wasn't up on the altar that day. She was on the edge of her seat, but still in the pew, still beside me. She ventured up on an ordinary day when there were no props and no costumes. "There's my friend Lucy," Father David said, recognizing her accomplishment. And she beamed. Then there was another ordinary Sunday about a year ago, during coffee hour, another thing Father David did to bring people together. Lucy raced to him. "Hi! How are you?" she said. And although he was talking to someone else, he turned and gave her his full attention. "I'm very well, Lucy, " he said. "And how are you, my friend?" He alluded in his homilies a few times to a sister he'd had. A special sister, who wasn't as lucky as Lucy. A sister who died when she was a child. Was it his tenderness for her that allowed Father David to see past Lucy's special needs into her soul? To see her perfection? To see God's love in her smile? Or did this kind and gentle man see God in everyone? I had no idea he was sick. A woman at church told me. Cancer, she said. But people live with cancer. He'll get better, I thought. His parents are alive. They're in their 90s. He has great genes. The cancer was greater. He died on Dec. 31. I didn't know until five weeks later. He sent me a picture a while ago that had been taken at one of the coffee hours. It was of Lucy and him and me. He did this - kept in touch, wrote notes. He was always reaching out. He gave me a book he wrote before he became a priest. He was a late vocation, ordained when he was 43. I wondered about this, but I never asked him. "He wanted to help everyone," a woman who works with him said. "It frustrated him that he couldn't. No human being can help everyone. But now he can." I wish I believed this. I wish I had the faith that could look past the temporary body to the eternal soul and know for certain what I profess to believe - that life doesn't end, it just changes. I wish I had told him thank you. Or "You're a good man." Or "Lucy loves you." Because she does. And because, too late, I realize that I do, too. Beverly Beckham can be reached at <mailto:[email protected]>[email protected]. [] <*}}}>< <http://www.halfthekingdom.org/on+allposters+today.html>on AllPosters today <*}}}><<*}}}>< <http://astore.amazon.com/halthekin-20>Catholic on Amazon <*}}}>< + <*}}}>< <http://www.holypostage.com/>Holy Postage <*}}}>< <*}}}><<http://www.halfthekingdom.org/>Half the <http://www.halfthekingdom.org/>Kingdom!<*}}}>< + "The fruit of abortion is nuclear war" - Bl. Mother Teresa + --~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~ Please note that I do not send or open attachments sent to this list. You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Catholics on Fire" group. 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