Father Z has a post about priests and cassocks.  It brought to mind once again a story I like to tell about how a priest in a cassock touched my life.  (Forgive me if you’ve already heard/read it before!)

It was very late September 2007. I was at Philadelphia airport, in between flights, trying to get to my gravely ill parents.  I was running on empty, both physically and emotionally, so I got some lunch in the food court.  But I was so distressed I couldn’t eat.  I asked God to please comfort me and calm me down.

Right then I looked up, and there came this young priest–maybe my age–dressed in a cassock!  He sat down at a nearby table, blessed his food very solemnly, and began his lunch.  He had such a peaceful, calming air about him that it lifted my spirits immediately.  From that moment on, I didn’t feel so alone and helpless!

I then followed his lead and said grace and ate my lunch too.  After I ate, I felt so much better, and so relieved that I felt like crying, so I went to the ladies’ room.  I came back out, intending to thank the priest for his good witness, and for just being there and being recognizable as a priest, but he had already taken off by then.

I have no idea who he was, I don’t clearly remember his face either, but I will never, ever forget him—and I will always remember him in my prayers!

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