DEMONS 

[The following is  a  story I made up last night for today’s gospel story of the Canaanite woman – in Matthew 15: 21-28. I’ve always had trouble and wonderings about this story – so writing a story helps me put some meaning into it. I like writing stories – and I know something’s happening when I begin to wonder where the story is going and how it’s going to end.]

She brought her daughter to a half dozen hospitals and clinics in the city and nobody – no nobody - could help her. 

Nobody could heal her. Nobody could hear her daughter’s pain and her daughter’s horrors. 

Like an angry dog her demons barked in the basement of her mind – often keeping this daughter of God awake and crying in the night.

Her mother also brought her to priests and ministers, shrinks and specialists.

It seemed nobody knew what to do. It seemed after a while nobody really cared. Her daughter was an impossible case. 

 Next.

It seemed to her mom that even God had abandoned her and her daughter. It seemed Jesus didn’t care  – every time she brought her daughter to sit with her in her favorite church. Many an afternoon the two of them would sit in a bench -  in the second row  - off to the side – sort of in the dark - near the candles - of this little used Catholic Church – in the big city.

Her mom would pray and pray and pray to Jesus in the tabernacle – in the Blessed Sacrament. Her mom would  beg and beg. It seemed Jesus wasn’t  listening – wasn’t helping. Wasn’t he the one who said, “If you have faith, you’ll keep on knocking on God’s doors?”

Her daughter - with these unspeakable demons – would sometimes yell out in that big empty church. Sometimes she scratch her arms – sometimes to the point of bleeding. Luckily, nobody else was ever in the church.

Her daughter was 21 – had been in several institutions – usually for 2 or 3 days at a time – for observation - and had been dismissed from them all. Nobody could come up with a diagnosis. What to do? Where to turn? What now? What next?

Well, one afternoon, a 56 year old nun – which is young for a nun in many religious orders these days -  just happened to drop into that little used Catholic Church.

Let the healing begin.

She had spotted the church  - when the bus she was sitting in - stalled - right outside that particular church – at  that particular moment.

The nun got up from her window seat in the bus – walked to the front – went down the 3 steps - and carefully slipped by the steam and the smoke that was hissing -  out from under the motor of that bus.

The driver had said, “Sorry! Something’s wrong folks! Better get out of the bus – till I get some help here.”

The nun walked up the 4 stone steps of the church. She opened the big wooden center door. She then opened the inner doors and walked into this big empty church – which she have never seen before.

She knelt  down to pray – in a back bench - first a prayer for the bus driver -  and then for all the passengers – that everyone would be safe and get home to their families okay.

It was then that she heard the girl with the demons letting out a few shrieks of pain – somewhere down front and off to the side in the church.

The nun, Sister Mary Patrick, reached for her bag – and was about to head back out the front door. She heard a woman say, “Calm down honey. Calm down. We’re in God’s house. We’re in God’s house - now.”

All was quiet again.

The nun said a prayer for whomever was yelling or hurting.

Then she heard, “Mom, there’s someone back there. There’s someone in the back of the church. Maybe we should leave.”

Both got up and headed for the back of the church….

Spotting the nun, the mother said, “Hello Sister, hello. Could you say a prayer for my daughter? Could you give her a blessing.”

Pause.

“Yes,” the nun said. Then nervously she continued, “Let’s say the Lord’s Prayer together.”

Surprise, the young girl reached out her hands – one to the nun and one to her mom.

And they prayed the Our Father together.

Then the mother introduced herself and her daughter, Georgia, to the nun. She told the nun that Georgia was named after her dad – who disappeared a long time ago. It was just the two of them.

The nun introduced herself, “Hi. I’m Sister Mary Patrick.”

Then the mother for some reason said, “Sister can you help us?  My daughter and I need prayers and healing.”

And then they sat down in that same bench.  Then they told Sister Mary Patrick the whole story.

Sister Mary Patrick asked the young girl, “Do you have a job?”

“No!”

Then she asked her mom, “Do you have a job?”

“No!” said the mother as well.

“Well,” said Sister Mary Patrick, “I take care of old nuns and I sure could use some  help. I can pay both of you at least the minimum wage and a tiny bit more  - but that’s all I can pay.”

And the rest of the story is a story of healing – a healing that started that day in that tiny little forgotten church in this big city.

The old nuns - the 3 of them began to serve – were bed ridden or in wheel chairs – in a big - 3 story old convent – about 13 blocks away from that church. Good thing it had an elevator.

Georgia, her mom, and Sister Mary Patrick – became quite a team. It was bedpans – lifting – lots of lifting – lots of meals – and lots of love.

The old nuns fell in love with Georgia and her mom – and Georgia found healing and peace – serving the old gals.

They asked about Georgia’s education – which was practically non-existent. Well, that changed. In fact in 2 years time they had Georgia going to a community college – having got her high school equivalency – home school nun style mind you.

This is a story of healing – and it has a happy ending – Georgia eventually met a neat guy in her job as a dental hygienist  – began dating – got married – had 3 kids and a great life together – and her mom – her mom became a great granny. And Sister Mary Patrick – well – she was able to get more help and continued to serve her sisters and from time to time Georgia and her husband and 3 kids – as well as her mom – would drop into see the sisters – and Georgia would say, “This is where it all happened kids – the place where your mom got well.”

Then with a big smile she'd finish, “Well, well, well, as the story goes. Amen.”