I was standing in a steamy, crowded room when a group of Catholic nuns in crisp white saris proceeded in. As they passed, a lady near me patted the shoulder of the shortest sister — whom we all recognized as Mother Teresa.
Mother Teresa could have ignored the touch, but instead turned to smile at the woman — and when I saw the light radiating from her eyes, I was so stunned I began to cry.
This woman — called the "saint of the gutters" for caring for India's downtrodden poor — will become an official saint of the Catholic Church Sept. 4.
A true mystic, she wrote about seeing Jesus in the hearts of the neediest people, including the throwaways of the world — lepers, the elderly, the starving, the victims of AIDS.
In every chapel in a Missionaries of Charity home, you will see “I thirst” inscribed in big letters near the crucifix. These words of Jesus as he was dying inspired Mother Teresa to quench people’s deep longing for love.
Her devotion to the sick and dying led to her receiving the Nobel Peace Prize — despite her proclivity to champion causes that were politically incorrect.
You see, she dearly took to heart Christ’s words, “Whatever you have done to the least of these my little ones, you have done onto me.”
And she passionately believed that no one deserved the title “least of these” more than unborn babies.
At a televised National Prayer Breakfast in Washington, D.C., in 1994, her audience included politicians who disagreed strongly with this view.
Still, she didn’t mince words: “I feel that the greatest destroyer of peace today is abortion, because it is a war against the child, a direct killing of the innocent child … .”
She reminded her audience of God’s promise in the Old Testament: “Even if a mother could forget her child, I will not forget you. I have carved you in the palm of my hand.”
It was a muggy June day in 1995 when my husband and I met this courageous woman at a Mass celebrating the opening of the Gift of Grace home in Atlanta.
We had worked alongside other volunteers to help sisters from her religious order — the Missionaries of Charity — create a loving refuge for indigent women with AIDS.
This meant scraping layers of peeling paint from cabinets, tearing up creaky floors and helping with the seemingly endless tasks needed to transform a ramshackle house into a cheerful abode.
And after Mass that day, we stood outside this now-sparkling house, awaiting the best reward ever — Mother Teresa’s blessing.
When it was my turn, she put her hands gently on my head and whispered a prayer — and I saw that light in her eyes again. Surely that radiance comes from faithfully following the one who said, “Whoever receives this child in my name receives me.”
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