Unexpected Graces
Monday night, I decided to attend daily Mass to remember the victims on 9/11. I arrived at church about 10 minutes early (a minor miracle, given Bay Area rush-hour traffic), and as I pulled into the small parking lot beside the church, I noticed a young man in a wheelchair on the corner. I could tell even at a distance that he was distressed. When I got out of the car and began walking toward him (and the church entrance), he approached me, obviously quite upset. He asked me for help. He told me that after getting off the bus, he was lost and was trying to find his cousin's house.
He told me roughly where his cousin lived, but because I'm not familiar with that part of Oakland beyond the immediate environs of the church, I wasn't sure where his cousin lived. Fortunately, he knew his cousin's phone number, so we called him and I explained that his cousin was lost and we needed his address.
It turned out the young man's cousin was only three or four blocks away, but on the other side of the freeway. I loaded the young man and his wheelchair into the car and drove him to his cousin's apartment and helped him inside and upstairs to his cousin's door. I have to confess that I was a bit nervous entering the building, since that side of the freeway is not a particularly good neighborhood. I said a silent prayer for God to watch over me and pressed on. The young man's cousin was very relieved to see us. He asked me if I'd had any trouble and thanked me sincerely. He asked his young cousin if he'd thanked me (he had, several times), and we said our goodbyes.
My motive for going to Mass was a little selfish. On the fifth anniversary of the terrorist attacks, I felt bad and wanted to feel like I was "doing something." Fortunately, God can make use of even venial motives. That poor young fellow was pretty scared. I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time.
I ended up arriving ten minutes or so late for Mass. But I think God understood.