Out of the Way

The hospital orderly I asked didn't look too happy when he handed over his iPhone for me to borrow. As I was on the phone, an older gentleman gently waved his badge at us: "Chaplain"

"I am a Zen Buddhist, studying catechism with a Jesuit priest, and graduated with a masters of divinity from a Church of Christ seminary."
"And I'm Sr. Janine," I smiled in return.
"Do you know where you need to be?" he asked helpfully.
"Yes, I am go to back to where I got off the train."

"May I ask you where you are from?"
"Oh, you mean my ethnicity? I'm Vietnamese!"
"That's what I thought. I studied with Thích Nhất Hạnh. May I walk you back?"

I was in Saint Louis for a training workshop and decided to take the train to our convent instead of having my sisters pick me up from the airport, saving them an hour of rush traffic. After 40 minutes of watching others getting picked up and dropped off, I decided to find a pay phone. There was none on this side of the building.

"If it is not out of your way."
"We are having a pleasant talk, so maybe this is the way."
"Your master will be happy with you."
"Jesus, the Master teaches all to walk the Way."

I had to chuckle.
I had forgotten my companion did receive his Masters in Christian studies.
Before Christians were known as "Christians" in Antioch (Acts 11:26), we were known as the People of the Way (Acts 9:2) for Jesus said "I am the way, the truth, and the life" (John 14:6).

"You know, I'm not surprised that I'm in this predicament. Sr. Irene Khanh is famous in our community for not being clear with directions. She had told me to get off the train and stand in front of the hospital. She didn't tell me whether it was North or South entrance! Now, I know I wasn't suppose to turn right or left!"

He laughed softly at my jovial frankness.
"Yes, you weren't suppose to be at North or South, but right in the center."

We shook hands and I watched him disappear into the evening crowd.
I suppose I would've saved myself an hour if I did carry a cell phone.
The brisk wind cut through my jacket and gloved hands.
The laptop on my shoulders was beginning to feel heavy.

"Sister, I'm Randall. Would you pray for me?" He had re-wound his steps to look for me.
"Yes..."
"Please do. I am soul, broken and needing healing." He gently pressed my hands and walked away.

I suppose I would've saved myself an hour if I did carry a cell phone.
Then, I won't have been in the center and met a fellow comrade on this journey of life.

ps. Photo is of the Arch in Saint Louis, Missouri

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