Father Charles Puthota

A boy was flying a kite on a windy day. The kite kept going higher and higher, and after some time, it got so high that it was out of sight. A passerby, seeing the boy holding onto a string, asked him, “How do you even know that you have a kite up there?” The boy replied, “Because I can feel it.”

In Thornton Wilder’s Pulitzer Prize winning play “Our Town,” set in the fictional town of Grover’s Corners in New Hampshire, the narrator, pointing to the graves of familiar people in the cemetery, says: “Yes, an awful lot of sorrow has sort of quieted down up here. People just wild with grief have brought their relatives up to this hill… Now there are some things we all know, but we don’t take ‘m out and look at ‘m very often. We all know that something is eternal. And it ain’t houses and it ain’t names, and it ain’t earth, and it ain’t even the stars … everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings. All the greatest people ever lived have been telling us that for five thousand years and yet you’d be surprised how people are always losing hold of it. There’s something way down deep that’s eternal about every human being. … They’re waitin’. They’re waitin’ for something that they feel is comin’. Something important, and great. Aren’t they waitin’ for the eternal part in them to come out clear?”

Years ago, I had the privilege of celebrating Mass at St. Thérèse of Child Jesus’ Carmelite Convent in Lisieux, France, and of visiting Les Buissonnets, the house she grew up in, now turned into a sacred museum. While there, I was touched by a mysterious presence and power. Ever since, Thérèse has been one of three most favorite saints for my personal reflection, inspiration, and guidance.

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart,” said Helen Keller, who, though blind and deaf, became a symbol of courage and hope for generations. With sheer determination and positive outlook, she earned a bachelor’s degree and became a lecturer, author and political activist. Her blindness did not stop her from “seeing” clearly. She also said: “I have walked with people whose eyes are full of light but who see nothing in sea or sky, nothing in city streets, nothing in books. It is far better to sail forever in the night of blindness with sense, feeling and mind, than to be content with the mere act of seeing. The only lightless dark is the night of darkness in ignorance and insensibility.”

Here’s a moving testimonial to God’s surprising, unexpected, blessings: “I asked God for health that I might do great things, but I was given infirmity that I might do better things. I asked for riches that I might be happy, but I was given poverty that I might be wise.