I Got a Hole in My Soul, but Jesus in My Pocket . . .

Cross Atop Chapel at Franciscan Retreat Center by R. Marczynski

I did not mean my postcards to take necessarily take on a spiritual tone, but it seems that the times I feel I have something worthwhile sharing have been after some “spiritual” experience or insight.  I guess that is a good thing.

I serve as a “Minister to the Sick” and on the second Saturday of each month.  Today, March 8, was my turn to hold a Communion Service at a near-by nursing home and to visit with and distribute Communion to those unable to come to the service.  On some visits it can be a pretty dismal and depressing experience. Yet, I always leave a little more refreshed, if not grateful, and a little more faith-filled.  For these folks, receiving the Eucharist and praying with someone is truly the high point of the week.   It is humbling when someone grabs my hand and looks me in the eyes and keeps repeating, “Thank you for coming. Thank you.”   Their anticipation, joy and the peace that seems to come over them makes me feel a little embarrassed by my personal struggles with my faith and my doubts.  They never take someone coming to pray with them for granted.  For some residents, it literally may be the last time.   In fact, the first time I visited a patient at a nursing home, I found out that the man I visited died that night – I thought I killed him.  I thought, this Ministry to the Sick thing wasn’t starting off too hot.  It was truly humbling to know that I may have been the last person to say a prayer with him.

A Pyx

During the visits the consecrated hosts are carried in a small gold holder called a “pyx” that opens like a pocket watch or a brooch.  I usually go from room to room with the pyx and the consecrated hosts in my pocket.   I was visiting and joking with one of my favorite 95 year-old “girlfriends” one morning before giving her Communion.  I asked her if she was going dancing that night because she looked so good.  Mind you, she can barely get out of bed.  She laughed and said, “Oh, you’re just a big liar.”    I smiled back and asked her, “Now how could I be lying to you with Jesus in my pocket?  That just wouldn’t be right.”  We said a prayer, I gave her Communion, and told her I would see her next month and in the meantime not to go chasing any of the male residents.  She just laughed and waved me out.

As I left one day I thought about having Jesus in my pocket.  Sounds like a line from a country song, “I got a hole in my soul, but Jesus in my pocket!”  I wonder what I would be like and if my faith would be stronger, if every day, I had Jesus in my pocket.  

Gotta go, I have a hole that needs some mending!