Mother Teresa

“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.” –Mother Teresa

The above words were spoken by Mother Teresa. Mother Teresa began teaching in 1929. She taught girls at St. Mary’s High School. The high school was in Calcutta.

Calcutta is in India. In 1929, it was a place where the poorest of the poor, and the sickest of the sick wandered the streets.

One day, Mother Teresa was traveling on a train to Calcutta. She looked out the window and saw children without shoes. She thought she felt a calling. (A calling is a voice from God asking a favor). Her calling was to leave St. Mary’s and take care of the lepers, the beggars, the homeless, and the barefoot children of the streets in Calcutta.

When Mother Teresa returned to St. Mary’s convent, she asked the Archbishop (an Archbishop is a high priest) permission to leave.

Though Mother Teresa died in 1997, I like to pretend she didn’t.

Like an actor in a play, in a TV program, or in a movie, I like to create make-believe moments and pretend I am Mother Teresa.

Today I am in England. I have never been to England, but I know from pictures I have seen on the internet that there is a clock tower, and it is called “Big Ben.” Today I promised to meet Omar’s cousin.

Omar’s cousin says he will meetup with me at noon under Big Ben. If you recall, Omar is the small boy I rescued in the streets of Baghdad.

Remember, I am making this up.

Back to my story.

I stand beneath the big clock tower.

I hear Big Ben bong.

Bong. Bong. Bong.

Big Ben bongs 12 times. Omar’s uncle is not here.

I place my hand in my pocket, and I pray. In a little while I must meet Queen Elizabeth. I pray I will not be late.

I pray Queen Elizabeth will understand.

I pray Omar’s uncle is safe, and that nothing has happened to him.

In a little while, a woman stops, and whispers in my ear. She whispers a message from Omar’s Uncle to me. Omar’s uncle is in the hospital. On his way to meet me, he was hit by a car. The woman says Omar’s uncle is hurt very bad, and that I should go visit Queen Elizabeth without him. She asks if she can give me a ride to the Palace.

I say a prayer. Then I place a call to Queen Elizabeth. I tell the Queen about Omar’s uncle. I tell her where Omar’s uncle is, and that he needs me. I ask permission to not visit her and dine in the Palace.

On my way to the hospital, I pray my rosary.

I pray for Queen Elizabeth. I ask God to bless her.

I pray for Omar’s uncle.

I thank God for making me an instrument of his loving kindness.

Though my story is make-believe, I’d like to think if Mother Teresa were alive, she would like it.

What do you think?

When Mother Teresa was 18 years old, she entered a convent in India. (A convent is where nuns live.) Mother Teresa studied very hard, and on May 24, 1931, she received her first vows. (A vow is a promise. A promise is forever.)

Though Mother Teresa did not grow up poor, she promised to care for the poor for the rest of her life.

The Irish order of nuns Mother Teresa joined were the Sisters of Loreto.

The other day I dreamed that I was at the gates of heaven and St. Peter said, ‘Go back to Earth. There are no slums up here.’” –Mother Teresa

Though Mother Teresa died in 1997, I sometimes like to pretend she didn’t.
Like an actor in a play, in a TV program, or in a movie, I like to create make-believe moments and pretend I am Mother Teresa.

Today I am in the United States of America. Omar, my small friend, is with me. We stand on a long line because we wish to meet J. K. Rowling. Her new book, “Deathly Hallows” is for sale. J. K. Rowling is signing autographs. (An autograph is a person’s name written in their penmanship).

Remember, my story is not real. I am not Mother Teresa. I am only pretending to be Mother Teresa. I have never met J. K. Rowling, and I have not yet read her book “Deathly Hallows.”

Back to my story.

The line we stand in stretches out the door of the book store. It wraps around the side of the building, and spills into a parking lot to the back of the building. Omar says he has to go to the bathroom. He hops on one foot, then the other. Except for a bowl of beans, or a pair of sandals Omar does not understand why any child would wait on a line for anything. I smile at Omar. I finger beads of a rosary inside my pocket with one hand, and hold Omar’s hand with the other.

Boys and girls on line push and shove each. It seems they are tired of waiting and everyone wants to be first. Omar is almost shoved to the ground. I hold his hand. I say a prayer. I smile at Omar, and at the boy that pushed him. The boy is quiet. Then, he tells Omar he is sorry. He turns to his friend, puts his fingers to his lips. Soon all the other boys and girls do the same.

We are almost inside. From the doorway, I see J. K. Rowling seated in a chair at a large desk. I hear her say, thank you, and please. Then, as each boy and girl stops to receive her book, she cups her hand around her lips, and whispers in their ear. I cannot hear what J. K. Rowling says. Neither can Omar.

Omar wiggles his body. He is like a little worm. He wants to know what did J. K. Rowling say to the children? He asks me over and over.

The boy who pushed Omar passes, and Omar asks him what did J. K Rowling whisper in his ear.

I hear the boy tell Omar he cannot tell, because he promised.

Omar is quiet. He waits his turn. My hand is in my pocket, and I pray.

Though my story is make-believe, I’d like to think if Mother Teresa were alive, she would like it.

What do you think?

“Keep the joy of loving God in your heart and share this joy with all you meet especially your family. Be holy. Let us pray.” –Mother Teresa

Though Mother Teresa died in 1997, I sometimes like to pretend she didn’t.

Just like in a play, in a TV program, or in a movie, I like to create make-believe moments and pretend I am Mother Teresa.

This day, in my make-believe world, I see a make-believe boy wandering a real place, the streets of Baghdad. I have just left a make-believe hospital where I visited make-believe wounded American soldiers.

Remember, I am not Mother Teresa. I am pretending to be Mother Teresa.

Back to my story.

The pretend soldiers I visited are hurt from fighting the Iraqi war, a real war. In my make-believe world, I pray with them. I ask God to heal their wounds and make them well, again.

Outside the hospital, on my way back to the convent (a convent is a place where real nuns live), a boy runs to greet me. The boy knows that I am a nun by my habit (a nun’s dress and veil is called a habit).

This pretend boy’s shirt and trousers are torn. His feet are bruised and scraped. He clutches a basket. Inside the basket are a loaf of bread, a clutch of olives and a string of figs. My new friend looks about 7 or 8 years old.

Remember, I am not Mother Theresa. I am only pretending.

The young boy cries. He says that he is alone. His eyes are wet, and his basket shakes, as he tells his tale. He says that earlier in the morning his mother, his father, his 2 sisters, and his brother were killed. They were on their way to meet friends. A road was closed because it had been bombed. They had to walk around it, then they got lost.

They stopped to rest and ask directions. His father ordered him to guard the basket and wait by the side of the road. He watched his family cross to the other side, and that’s when it happened. A bomb went off.

My new friend stretches his arms. The basket wobbles. He says his basket of food is all he has left. He asks me if I am hungry and offers to share his basket of food.

Please remember, what you have just read is make-believe. There is no such boy, there is no such basket, and I am not Mother Teresa. I made this story up.

Back to my pretend story.

It is evening. My small boy friend have nibbled grapes and figs and a crust of bread. Later, I tuck my pretend friend into a pretend bed for the night in a nearby make-believe convent.

I teach Omar to fold his hands. Together, we pray. We thank God for grapes, for figs and for a crust of bread. We ask God to end the Iraqi war. We ask God to welcome his mother, his father, his 2 sisters and brother into heaven. We thank God for helping us find each other.

Though my story is not real, I like to think if Mother Teresa were alive, she would like it.

What do you think?