Clementina the
Messenger
(D)espise
not thy mother when she is old.
-- Proverbs 23:22b
I taught my daughters well:
1.
Put on your makeup, wash half of it off, and it'll be juuuuust right.
2.
Duct tape is faster than sewing when a hem comes loose, and a screwdriver
will part your hair nicely when you're in a hurry and can't find a comb.
3.
It's not how good of a dancer he is, the size of his bank account, or
how handsome his face looks in the moonlight when he croons to you underneath your
balcony. No, the single determinant of the quality of Husband Material is one
thing, and one thing only:
How well does he treat his
MOTHER?!?
The gold standard on that last one is my good friend
John. He treated his mother like a queen, throughout her life. Respectful! Funny!
Thoughtful! He was there for her in good times and in bad. Their relationship
grew sweeter as she grew more elderly and frail. He mourned her gentle, good
death a few years ago with a manly grace that was very inspiring for all to
see.
There's a void in his life that can never be filled.
He misses talking with his mom. His admirable relationship with her is one of
the best examples of honoring our parents and our elders that you've ever seen.
But life goes on. John has continued to be a captain
of industry. But also, in his "spare time," he goes on these wonderful mission
trips to Third World countries. It's part of his Christian walk, another
inspiring example for all of us rubber-neckers. He has a strong faith, and he
puts it to action.
Well, recently, this Michigan resident went to
Central America, to a remote part of Honduras. It was his ninth mission trip.
He went there to help this wonderful lady who has been active there among the
poorest of the poor for 34 years. She is sort of the Mother Theresa of
Honduras, John says. Her name: Clementina.
Clementina operated a soup kitchen for an orphanage,
feeding more than 100 children a day out of her garage.
For many of the children, lunch there was their only
meal of the day. But at Christmastime, somebody broke in and stole all the
copper wiring out of the humble facility. So Clementina had no electricity for
her kitchen. She was pretty much out of business.
John's mission group in Michigan was having none of
that. The Americans raised $25,000. They went down there to build her a very
nice, modern kitchen out of concrete block, with a couple of bathrooms and a
covered porch for the kids to eat out of the weather.
Instead of wrangling business deals, John's task was
lowly: making sure the skilled mason had a block in place at all times so that
he could work efficiently.
It was hard labor, but extremely fulfilling,
especially when the workers had a chance to play with the kids and share their
joy, even in the midst of such poverty. They wrestled with the kids, and dished
out their food, talking with them as best they could over the language barrier.
The smiles were radiant, all 'round.
Clementina was excited and delighted with the aid.
She is elderly, but John says she has "the energy of 10 teenagers." One day she
would bring an important bishop to tour the work site, and the next a gaggle of
nuns. She flitted about, interacting with the Americans, and everybody just had
a marvelous time.
Because of people like her, John plans to make his
retirement one long mission trip, punctuated by rest breaks back home. He's no
saint - he says he has a long list of mistakes and shortcomings he could never
atone for. But that's not why he goes on these mission trips.
"I love going because it's what God has called me to
do," John said. "It really is for His glory. It's about changing other people's
lives for the better. Every opportunity to serve gives me more faith. I come
back feeling more encouraged, because I know that's what Jesus did - served
people however they needed it."
He said there is never any friction or conflict on
trips like that, which is revealing. He said that, even if the accommodations
are somewhat less than a Ritz-Carlton and you don't have the tools you would
normally have at home, it's kind of fun to rough it and improvise. You really
come home feeling better about yourself and the world.
But here's the thing:
His first week in Honduras, he had a strong, strong
feeling that his mother was around. He didn't mention it to anybody. He just
pondered the sensation of feeling that somehow, she was there with him. It felt
good.
At the end of the week, it was announced that a few
of the next wave of volunteers had had to cancel their plans. There weren't
enough workers available. Because he enjoyed the intense feeling that somehow,
down there, he was connected more strongly to his mother, John offered to stay
on for another week to help complete the project. But again, he never said a
word about it.
At that point, Clementina revealed something that SHE
had been hiding from the group.
She said to the mission team, "I have had this very
strong sense that there's been an angel with us this week. But I don't know who
she is. She's with us at the clinic. She's with us at the orphanage. She's someone
who has passed on - an older lady - small in stature - in her mid-80s - someone
who loves children - and who's related to somebody on this trip.
"Everywhere we go, I can just sense this great joy in
her heart that she's around children - and there's somebody here that she's
really proud of."
John gaped. That described his mother to a T.
"I think it could be my mom," he told Clementina.
They embraced. When John tells the story, you get goosebumps.
Ordinarily, I don't go for any woo-woo stuff about
communing with dead spirits and all that. We're really not supposed to be in to
that.
But I know John. I know his faith. There's no other
explanation for this, other than that really WAS his mother looking out for him
during his time in Honduras.
I'd love to tell him I believe him . . .
. . . except he has already left on his NEXT mission
trip, all the way over to Africa.
Good thing his dear departed mother is an "extreme
jet-setter" now . . . and bet she took an angel flight over there, too! †
