Mother Teresa

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?