“The healthy have no need of a physician, the sick do.”  I have had the gift of friendship with those with emotional traumas, mental illness and the spiritual afflictions that come with it.  These childlike souls are transparently themselves, cannot hide their brokenness and live their issues every day.  They are very close to the Lord.  Loving one such soul formed me into who I am and I carry with me.  Her name was Ruth.  I met her at my first parish, my first week.  I accompanied Fr. Trenta to her house to help her find a document in the midst of rooms covered in piles of paper.  It began.  She recognized my care, so she reached out to talk.  We quickly became familiar.  She didn’t have many friends.  I would visit her house, drive her to the store or Taco Bell.  It was endearing conversation, but after, her mind would start over-examining and suspect me of false-motives and judgments.  She left many voicemails, at first, disgruntled.  Over time, loud, scorned and screaming.  She would say venomous things about the Catholic Church, priests and me as a terrible example.  I let her be.  It would have been easy avoid her calls and walk away.  “Even if we can’t fix them, there is no walking away.”  She still came to Mass.  We would have a better day, she would hate me after, I gave her time and she would find her calm again.  Oh Ruth.  But she was alone in this fight.  Her family loved her but she forced them at a distance.  Even amid shouting, it was out of pain, loneliness and not belonging.  One day, we sat outside, talked and I gave her Anointing of the Sick.  After we prayed, she broke down in childlike weeping.  I told her in the silence of my heart “You’re one of Jesus’ little ones.”  Not long after, the growth on her chest got bigger and started seeping.  It was cancer.

       It was an amazing grace how quickly through her illness and decline, she found such peace, reconciliation and resolution in her life.  The Lord healed her and re-made her the sweet, gentle, delicate child she was always was.  I was there as she took her last breaths.  Next to her family, I said “I’m here.”  At her memorial service, I said “I’ll miss her yelling at me.”  Her family all chuckled.  I got to love her.  Loving Ruth expanded my heart to love many, more than I thought I could before I knew her.  We see Jesus in people’s need for Jesus and they help us find Jesus in ourselves.  Now when I am praying for someone with emotional pain or mental illness they, like her, can’t control, I look up and say “Ruth.”  I hear her childlike voice say “Yes, father.”  “Pray for them.”  What if I never gave someone like Ruth a chance?