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APRIL 3, 2008
Tender moment inspires gratitude for priests
You’ve probably received those ads in the mail that feature an immaculately arranged garage with beautiful flooring and custom cabinetry.
Our family’s garage would be more like the “before” picture. A wrecked car that my husband and son plan to resurrect, bikes with flat tires and assorted junk piles are testaments to our lengthy to-do list.
On Holy Thursday afternoon I was in there, poking around and looking for something important. I was saying a prayer to the Holy Spirit a priest taught me years ago when suddenly I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from inside the house. My husband dashed inside with me in hot pursuit. There, standing on the old couch in our living room was our youngest son, sobbing, with his foot wedged inside the furniture’s metal frame.
Dad was able to pull the little guy’s foot out, thank heavens, and all I could do was sit there, kissing the angry welt that arose. With five sons, I’ve seen my share of “boo-boos” over the years, and this one wasn’t too bad. An ice pack and a friendly reminder about not jumping on the furniture would suffice.
It was later that evening while at the Mass of the Last Supper that the emotion of that scene came flooding back to me, this time with a different perspective.
Our pastor, a priest of many years, got down on his hands and knees and tenderly began to wash the feet of 12 parishioners. I don’t recall ever seeing a priest do what this faithful servant did next: He bent and kissed each person’s foot.
This humble gesture of love spoke to my heart and made me realize that our priests, in many ways, are like a parent who comforts a child in pain. I thought of the many times priests have shown such care and concern for my family, and the families of so many others over the years. And on Holy Thursday, when we thank God for the gift of the priesthood, it seemed like the perfect time to stop and give thanks for their selfless service.
It’s not something that comes naturally to people living in a media-saturated world where the sins of a few priests have often taken center stage and the heroic virtue of the majority has been ignored.
All my life I’ve been surrounded by good priests whose teaching and ministry have nurtured my faith.
Growing up just a block from Our Lady of Perpetual Help in Scottsdale, I remember my parents often inviting the clergy to our home and getting quizzed on my catechism in preparation for First Communion.
My mother’s cousin, Fr. Joe Curran, a priest from the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, often visited us, too. He would say home Masses for us and let the children be his altar servers and lectors.
I think also of the times priests have been there in my darkest hour. I’ll never forget the one who came to the hospital when my newborn son hovered between life and death with a serious illness. My baby’s tiny body, ashen and hooked up to various tubes, was fighting an infection and the doctor told us it was 50-50 as to whether he’d make it through the night. Fr. Roberto Corral, OP, brought the best medicine of all: the anointing of the sick and encouragement.
Most of all I think of Fr. Jim Kelleher, whom I met when I was just 16 years old. He was a seminarian then and like me, was praying outside an abortion clinic in downtown Phoenix. A friendship was born that to this day, inspires me and challenges me to live the Catholic faith more deeply.
These are just a few of the men who lay down their lives for us, who humbly serve and gently call us to holiness. They accept us, along with our messy garages, sometimes-unruly children and broken hearts. These are the priests we love and admire and rarely thank. May the Lord bless and keep them always.
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