Mi casa es su casa...

This is a Spanish phrase that many of us know and say whether we speak Spanish or not. The phrase means my house is your house. It is often said in order to make someone feel welcome in our house and let them know that we would like to show them our hospitality. Today, I used a similar phrase that still had the same underlying meaning, “mi carro es su carro (my car is your car).”

For four days this week I have been attending Basic Youth Ministry classes at the Pastoral Center. I have another blog entry in the works about the classes and some thoughts that I had but I want to share this other experience with you first. We got out of class today a little before 3pm today. I thought that I might beat the traffic on IH 35. However, I am quickly learning that traffic on IH 35 is always a disaster and it really starts to get bad after lunch on Fridays. It took me about twenty minutes to complete what should have been a five to ten minute trip back to the rectory.

As I got settled into the house and put my phone on the charger, I walked out of my room headed for the office so that I could work on Rosetta Stone in order to learn more Spanish. As I rounded the corner to the kitchen I was startled and almost ran into Sra. Maria. Maria is the lady who comes to the rectory on Wednesdays and Fridays to clean, do laundry, cook, change sheets on the beds, etc. Usually she leaves around 2pm so I did not expect her to still be there. She only speaks Spanish so some of my attempts to communicate with her are obviously amusing to her. Today was different though. Today I found a way to speak to her that I think we could all understand.

As Maria prepared to leave I noticed that she had an umbrella. I was proud of myself for learning the word for an umbrella yesterday and I said to her, “Usted tiene un paraguas,” (you have an umbrella). She smiled at me and let me know that I got the word right. I continued walking towards the office before I stopped in my tracks and realized why she had the umbrella. I turned around as she was preparing to walk out the door and asked in broken Spanish, “you aren’t walking home are you?” She told me that she was planning on walking to the Sheraton motel where she waits for her daughter to get off work and then the two of them take the bus home together. The Sheraton is not too far (perhaps a mile) but it would mean that she would have to cross IH 35 not to mention walking in 105 degree heat. Maria is in her early seventies and there was no way I was about to let her walk. I asked her if she did this every week and she said that she did. I told her to give me a few minutes and then went to load up my pockets again (cell phone, car keys, house keys, rings, wallet, etc). When I returned I told her that I would give her a ride home in my car. She tried to refuse and told me that her house was too far. I told her that I did not care how far it was but I was going to give her a ride home.

As I traveled North on IH 35 I looked over at the Southbound traffic and grimaced. The traffic was already bumper to bumper and at a standstill. I was not looking forward to the trip home. As we were driving I tried my best to make conversation with Maria in Spanish. I learned that she has been cleaning the priest’s house for the past six years. I told her that I had six more years until ordination. She asked about my family and I told her about my brothers, sister, mom, etc. She then told me about her family as well. She thanked me again for the ride and I said, “Mi carro es su carro.” It was a little cliché but in this case it was actually true! I explained to her that the car was owned by the Diocese and was given to me to use during my time of formation. I told her that the car belonged to her as much as it did to me. She seemed happy with that, smiled, and said, “Gracias.”

As we pulled into her neighborhood she showed me the bus stop where she catches the bus to come to the rectory. We then traveled another mile to her house. I then realized that she walks from the house to the bus stop. I know I would complain about having to live this way. When we arrived at the house she invited me in to meet her family. I met her granddaughter, great grandson, and two dogs. She offered me something to eat and drink several times and I politely refused several times. In hindsight I probably should have accepted something because she was trying to thank me. I don’t know enough Spanish to let her know that I had already received my gift.

I did not stay at the house long as I wanted to get back before the traffic got any worse. I prayed as I sat in traffic in an attempt to not let my temper get the best of me. It also gave me a chance to practice my prayers in Spanish. Before you think that I am patting myself on the back too much, I want you to know that I do not share this as a means to advance my own cause for canonization in your eyes. I just realized what a gift it is to be able to help someone else with the gifts that have been given to you.

You must understand that I find myself at a point in my life where very few of the things I have actually belong to me. Every dollar that passes through my pocket comes from the charity of others (I have what I need so don’t take this as a plea for charity). The car that I drive does not belong to me. The Bible I read from was given to me. The vestments that I wear in Mass were a gift. The computer that I am typing on was a gift. The food I eat is a gift. The phone I talk on is paid for by someone else. The words I use are a gift. My life is gift. You get the idea. Oh yeah, one more, if you are reading this, you are one of those gifts I have received.

As I sit here on a very hot Friday afternoon, I find myself thanking God for the gifts I have been given. The gifts are more enjoyable when I share them. They allow me to see a bigger piece of the puzzle. They bring me closer to God when I share them. I pray that God continues to bring about conversion in my heart. I ask that he continue to allow me to serve his people and share the gifts I have been given. I pray that he give me the generous spirit to mean it when I say to him, “Mi vida es su vida!” (My life is your life).

Pax Tecum,
Tom