Father Charles Puthota

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.

Listening to the priest speaking about Jesus’ resurrection, 7-year-old Jack asks: “What was the first thing that Jesus said when he rose from the dead?” The priest says: “You know, children, the Gospels do not really say anything about it.” The little Katie says: “I know what Jesus said.” “Do you really, Katie? What did he say?” The girl says: “Jesus said, ‘ta-da.’”

“Jonathan Livingston Seagull” is Richard Bach’s allegorical story about our search for meaning and perfection.