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spacer.gif   Litany of My Saints...
Posted by: jesse on Monday, February 06, 2006 - 11:30 PM
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I am often filled with fear, as most folks who've read my blogs and heard me speak. It's a part of me. However, there is a part of me that is full of courage, compassion, love and the boldness to affirm, encourage, and challenge. These saints are mine, but they don't belong to me alone. Gone before us, marked with the sign of faith, hope, and love...they are alive in Spirit and in Truth. They are with me in every breath. They live in me....

Fr. John Wadovich, Oblate of Mary Immaculate....beloved friend, encourager and affirmer; took me to my first play...Evita...at the Shubert Theatre....opened my....

eyes, ears and heart to a beautiful and powerful experience of how music can engage and transform. Surreal to the sublime. Pizza and Pipes in Concord, where themes from Camelot and other classic showtunes were played majestically while massive quantities of pizza were consumed. Held John's hand the day before AIDS took him from this life. Held the hand of the crucified Christ, as John's eyes spoke to me of love and friendship. To this day, the Oblates of Mary Immaculate are my family, whether that's good or bad news to them. Dear brother John, pray for me...pray for us....

Sr. Anne Russell, Order of Preachers....Anne "discovered" me at a Young Adult Retreat at San Damiano Retreat Center in Danville. She invited me into the Campus Ministry Center at Cal State Hayward, a Newman Center. She loved me and Jodi. Got us a car. Got me a job at FolgerGraphics in Hayward. Introduced me to Deacon Dick Folger who employed me when he didn't really need me. Five years or so. Then he supported Jodi and I, and our ministry, by encouraging me to trust God, and leave the "safety and security" of a stable income and health care...and lovingly pushed me out of the boat into the rocky waters of full time itinerant ministry. Anne inspired the Deacon to do that. Anne's bout with cancer was valiant. She lived a full life of love and service. Anne faithfully and ferociously loved a Church that often didn't accept, affirm, or understand her. And yet, she stayed and loved us all. Sweet Anne...pray for me...pray for us....

Fr. John Hamme, Society of the Precious Blood (Missionaries of the Blood of Christ)...my first experience of the Precious Blood. A former military man. Tall. Stoic. Seemingly hard on the outside, but definitely a warmth of love and friendship if you'd give him a chance. St. Barnabas Church, Alameda. I was just a kid with a guitar. Had no real talent at the time, but Fr. Hamme was always there with a kind word, a smile, and a nod of acknowledgement that he saw us and valued us. Just a nod, was all that was needed. Fr. Hamme, pray for me...pray for us....

Fr. John Klopke, Society of the Precious Blood (Missionaries of the Blood of Christ)...the associate pastor when Fr. Hamme was pastor. Fr. Klopke was his own favorite audience when he told a joke. It brought joy to hear him tell it. Bold, confidence, and yet still a great sense of humility as he preached. I only caught a glimpse of who he was, but the glimpse was enough for me. A good man who went out of his way to acknowledge you. A beloved priest. A beloved friend. Fr. Klopke, pray for me...pray for us....

Sr. Dolores, Order of Carmelites....I didn't know my Auntie Dolores that well. As a child, all I remember is that she wore a full nun's habit, long black dress thing, black headgear with a white thingy (love the technical jargon?) and thick black rimmed glasses. What I did sense from my Auntie, was that she was a holy woman. She had a weariness in her voice and face, that could only come from giving her life away. But she also had a laugh that revealed a joy from the same. I only saw her a few times at granny and grandpa's house but that was enough. I didn't hear of her death until several months later. My granny was close to her, and I shared granny's sadness and tears. Auntie inspired me to strive to be holy, like her. Like the one who loved her into service. Sr. Dolores, pray for me...pray for us....

Uncle Anke SanNicolas....the darkest skinned Chamoru I've ever seen. Sparkling eyes and laughter that would fill a room. A man of pure joy. My grandpa's little brother. I knew Uncle Anke from the millions of novenas at his and Auntie Bek's home. He was never a rich man, in other people's eyes, but in mine, he was wealthy to overflowing with warmth and love that eminated from his glowing smile and welcoming presence. Uncle Anke, pray for us...

Uncle Henry "Hank" Garrido....who marched to the beat of his own drum and followed his heart on his own terms and never apologized for being that free. My hero. Was baptized Catholic as a child in Guam. As an adult, left the church and sought truth and meaning in a variety of spiritual practices and traditions, including the teachings of the Tao and Buddhism. With all of his disagreements with the Catholic church, Uncle "Hank" never once encouraged me to leave the Church, but encouraged and challenged me to encourage and challenge all authority, including parental, government, and religious authority. I continue to accept his guidance. My Guild guitar, that I've been playing for over 15 years, is named after him, "Hank." Uncle Hank, pray for me....pray for us...

Grandpa...John Rosario SanNicolas....no man was ever stronger with his hands and heart for his family. No man. Hardened by the occupation of Japanese military forces in WWI, and subsequent beating and jailing; and the subsequent "liberation" of Guam, by U.S. forces; and mistreatment and humiliation by a few U.S. Marine personnel, Grandpa had memories of anguish that haunted him. Perhaps, Grandpa couldn't say "I love you" like others, but miraculously in the midst of his painful memories, he managed to say "I love you" over and over again in his actions. My mom's dad. My father's only experience of a "dad." Grandpa exuded the gospel by living a life of sacrifice for his family. PS. Grandpa loved to dance with Granny and they're dancing in heaven! Grandpa, pray for me...and for us...and dance one for me with Granny.

Granny...Carmen Reyes SanNicolas....no greater hero have I, than granny. Granny had this knack for making you feel like the only child on the planet. In a life full of brothers, sisters, cousins, and countless extended family and friends, Granny made you know that you were loved; that you were here and it was good that you were here; that you were the most...special...kid...on the face of the earth. I was in Canada, working, when she died. When I returned home, I immediately went to her house, grabbed her pillow and wept for what seemed hours....I sat in her chair, flipped through the pages in all of her prayer books, novenas, and devotions....and found my name...my name...handwritten all over the pages....for me, my wife, Jodi, our children, our ministry, our health....Granny, I love you woman of God. Pray for me...pray for us.

Who are your saints? Name them. Invoke their names out loud in remembrance and in honor of the love and lives they shared to bring us to this place and time. Close your eyes and open your heart....they are with us.

All of them....with us. In Christ....

 
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