An exceptionally painful encounter

I have a lot of pastoral encounters. It is normally prudent not to write about them. A week ago last Sunday, after the 6:00 PM Mass, my third of the day, as I was preaching that weekend, I was going into the rectory of the Cathedral, feeling relieved that I was done for the day, when a woman said- "Deacon, deacon, wait a minute". So, I stopped, holding the door as she motioned with her hand to somebody I could not see. A second later a very young woman, holding a baby seat turned the corner. The older woman asked, "Do you have a minute?" I answered that I did. They followed me into the dining room. I was still vested in alb, stole, and dalmatic, all indicative of my sacramental office of service.

As we sat down, I removed the blanket that covered the baby seat, to see a very little, brand new, baby boy. I was asked to give little Anthony, who was a month old, a blessing, which I gladly did. The young mother was an eighteen year-old, very innocent-looking, Native American woman. She did not speak except to give me her son's name and answer yes, no, or I don't know to some questions I asked. I found out from the older women that they were both living at a local homeless shelter. The older woman worked and paid all of her money to send her two school-age sons to a local Catholic school. She had befriended the young woman because the young mother and her son appeared so vulnerable and alone. They had come to Mass, even though the young mother is not Catholic.

We had a discussion about some things and they were off. They were so thankful to me for simply imparting my blessing, which, at least to them, was Christ's blessing, but I felt powerless and useless. I walked them to the door, bid them farewell, urging the young woman to keep an appointment. I removed my vestments feeling emotionally paralyzed. I walked up the stairs, entered the hallway that leads to my office, and there became overwhelmed. Due to some issues I have, my emotional responses are almost always delayed. For example, when a very close friend died after high school I had no emotional reaction until months after his death, when I was in the vicinity of where he had worked and thought about dropping by see him. Only then did I realize I would never see him again. Finally, I grieved for him sitting on a bench in a mall. So, without thinking, or having time to get a grip, I felt tears streaming down my face and found myself on my knees. It became clear to me in that moment that I had just had an encounter, an exceptional encounter. Nonetheless, there was nothing romantic or sweet about it. I was scared for Anthony and for his young mother, terrified for them. I am still. I have thought about them everyday. I have not seen them since. I also think of her older companion, who had adopted this young woman, looked after her, brought her to Mass, to Jesus, as a refuge. There is nothing supernatural here, it is all existential, experiential, which makes it real in a way I would prefer it not to be.