I’ve been lucky to know a few saints. No, they were not awarded sainthood by the Holy Roman Catholic church but are saints to me.
One who comes to mind is the gentleman I met first day of college orientation who was somewhat bereft of a bed so slept on a blanket outside our dorm room. I found him the next morning. Though our talks and his writings I learned to know more about myself and what I was capable of being.
To my college advisor, with whom I must schedule lunch 1,000 miles away per our phone conversation last week, he gave me great advice and then got me out of a tough situation my senior year. We’ve kept in touch for nearly 40 years. He is a saint and perhaps his miracle is me as I learned that knowledge is power and that to trust is a miracle in itself.
My great aunt O taught me to love food and friends and enjoy being with folks who, partly thanks to my efforts, are covered by policies that prohibit discrimination in housing and employment due to perceived sexual orientation and now allow same sex couples to marry.
To my aunts L and J, for keeping a dictionary in the bathroom and making me learn a word every time I went in there. They also taught me how to cook, and to taste something they made without asking the ingredients. Yes, they introduced me to the splendiferousness of blue cheese.
To St. Francis of Assisi, I know he’s already a saint. He helped me in my volunteerism and advocacy for animals over two decades. I’ve yet to see Assisi but have seen his robe in Siena.
There are certain saints among us every day, including my friend Dan who passed recently. He took care of old people in nursing homes and was gifted.
Is there a saint in us? I’d like to prove that now rather than wait the the HRC to recognize me 500 years hence. Cheers, Dee