I was just reading fellow Canuck Jason Thibeault’s Lousy Canuck, and I caught his post Meet the new Mohawk saint, which is about the Catholic saint Kateri Tekakwitha, and how she has healed a child. I’ve commented about Kateri in the past, and especially love her divinely inspired book of teachings. But it got me to thinking.
As Jason rightly points out, what saved this child could not possibly have been the many doctors struggling against the disease. It had to have been the child’s minimal contact with a product or service that once had contact with a long-dead native convert to Catholicism. Clearly. And then I thought about my general disdain for miracles, but people often tell me there are miracles all around me that I just am not looking at correctly.
Well, now that sunk it. I realized that all this atheism stuff was great, but it couldn’t explain away a pimple I got. I squeezed it. Stuff came out. But the pimple? It came back. At that point, the Lovely Lady squeezed it. Stuff came out. But the pimple? It came back. Then she squeezed it again, and utilized a variety of aesthetics tools. And just when it seemed like things would never get better for me, our cat, Mister, brushed against my leg. And you know what? The pimple didn’t come back!
It couldn’t have been all the squeezing and profound manglings of both the Lovely Lady and myself. No, I have to accept that it was Mister. If he had touched me earlier, the pimple may never have even appeared. But I bet God wanted me to understand, and so he blighted my flesh and caused me great discomfort before sending his messenger of love and healing to me. Praise him! And praise Saint Mister, upon whom some future Pope will no doubt confer the title Patron Saint of Acne.
Now I just gotta figure out how to sell his fur to desperate Catholic mothers tired of their teen-aged kids having troubled skin…