The other evening, during my home visit, my sister and I went swimming at a lake.

It was a wonderful time, just being in the water, visiting, and refreshing my back and breaststroke skills (or lack-thereof), so underutilized the last couple of decades. 

After we had had enough for the evening (not wishing to satiate our appetite for swimming all in one evening), we headed toward the shore, already planning for another swim in the days to come. 

My sister decided to do one final sprint, breaking into a back stroke.  For ocular reasons, she had sunglasses on (we were having more fun than doing serious swimming).  As she proceeded, she felt the sunglasses begin to slip down on her head; she didn’t think they would come off, however.

Unfortunately, though, they did, falling into the water. 

The lake was quite shallow at this part, and both of us proceeded to search for this piece of eye gear. 

I even went underwater, but the green subaquatic environment wasn’t exactly conducive to spotting the missing item. 

Before too long, we started praying to St. Anthony.  My sister has long had a strong devotion and special connection with him. 

Soon, she had found her sunglasses in the lake.  

Half in joking, half seriously, I said to her, “It pays to have friends in high places.”

This little episode was a sweet reminder of how close the saints are to us every day. Whether it’s something big or small, we know we’re not alone—that our heavenly friends are just a prayer away, ready to help us see clearly, even when we’ve lost our way (or sunglasses!) in murky waters.

Earlier this week, Sr. Mary Ruth and I were visiting someone in the hospital.  We stepped away for the midday Mass at a nearby church and returned with the Blessed Sacrament for the sick patient (as had previously been arranged with the pastor).
 
As we drove the short distance back to the hospital, we were aware that this was no ordinary transit.  Jesus was physically with us, through the highways and byways.
 
It was lovely to realize, as Sr. Mary Ruth mentioned, that we were actually bringing Jesus not only to our sick friend, but also into spaces where many were in need of His presence. 
 
We could only find a parking place near the emergency room so we ended up walking through that entrance, as well as traveling through other hallways of the hospital before reaching our destination.  Because of our little “procession,” these areas, too, were gifted with His physical presence on an ordinary Monday afternoon.
 
Upon arrival in the patient’s room, as we waited for her to be ready, we were blessed with His continued presence in the room with us. 
 
This special opportunity reminded me of other times of close encounters with Jesus outside of Mass, especially times when I, myself, have been privileged to carry the Blessed Sacrament in a pyx.
 
These have truly been awe-filled experiences for me.  
 
Such special moments of closeness serve as a reminder, too, of my call to bring Jesus to other people every day. 
 
I need to pray to the Holy Spirit that I may be open for Him to use me as an instrument…I never know who He might want me to share His presence with today.