We often pray for angels but when they are among us, we just can’t seem to see them. Mother Teresa was an angel. Yes, she was a mortal. She was tiny. She had no divine powers like the Gods of old. However, she had incredible spirit. Kind, giving and caring. She set right so many lives that it is a wonder why we still look skywards for angels.
Arriving at her former house, I imagine a mansion worthy of her reputation. I expected big! But true to her nature, her abode was a simple affair. Material wealth had no place in this temple. Walking into her residence, you are enveloped by this blanket of peace. What was odd was the feeling of selflessness that comes with that peace. By nature, I am as selfish as the next rat in our never ending race. Fortune, fame and reputation are parts of a life where respect is accorded to the type of suit you tailor. But in the mother’s house, the pillars that held my selfish life together crumbled. I was initially alarmed as I felt adrift. Lost in contemplation. But instead of breaking apart, I felt immense support. It was strange and unnerving. Looking around, I realized that I was not the only one. Other visitors seem to feel it too. Many cried. Some fidgeted. A few huddled in hushed whispers. Most were just quiet… Soaking it all up. Figuring it out. I came away dissatisfied and disturbed.
It took me a while to unravel it. I recognize what it was now. What I felt was charity. It was the influence from a nobler cause than mine. A selfless love emanating from a powerful will to help people. It left me confused with difficult questions to answer about my own life.
Looking back now, I know what happened. I had a brush with an angel. I just refused to see her.