When God’s Hand Is Visible To Our Eyes

ERIKA ANDERSON, Staff Writer

Published: September 23, 2004

Recently, a friend and I were discussing what I call “God-incidences,” those little moments when it becomes crystal clear that God has intervened and made something happen.

A few years ago, something happened to me that was obviously one of those God-incidences. I share this in Youth News for two reasons. First, it happened at a youth event. Second, I hope that those reading this will continue to be aware of God’s presence in their lives, in both the big and small moments.

In July 2002, I went to Toronto for World Youth Day, one of the massive international gatherings of young Catholics started by Pope John Paul II back in the 1980s. This was my second WYD—the first I attended was in Rome in 2000.

World Youth Day is a misnomer because it’s actually an almost weeklong celebration. During the day you participate in catechesis sessions, when you learn more about your faith, in smaller groups of just 1,000 or so. During one of our sessions, the Daughters of St. Paul, who were leading our catechesis, gave us small crosses and told us to give them to someone we didn’t know and tell him/her we were praying for him/her. I carried that cross all week, just expecting the right person to cross my path.

The big finale of WYD is the all-night prayer vigil and Mass celebrated by the pope. In the case of Toronto, we hiked to an airfield where we set up camp. It’s not an easy night. It’s especially not easy when you are awakened at 4 a.m. by a torrential rainstorm like we were in Toronto. Everything was soaked.

But when the pope came out, he had such wonderful things to say during Mass that it made it all worth it in my eyes. I had run into my friend, Carl, whom I knew from home, but who had moved to South Carolina.

Carl. Remember his name. It will be important later.

Carl and his friend put up their own camp next to ours, and a group of us talked a lot and shared a tarp during the rain the next morning.

When the festivities were over, Carl and his friend and my friend, Melissa, and I made our way back to the subway only to be greeted with a line that stretched for miles. We knew we wouldn’t be able to get on a train, so we decided to start walking. Right before we started walking, I took my cross out of my pocket and gave it to Carl.

“I know that I already know you, but I haven’t seen you in a while, so I think I’m supposed to give it you,” I told him. “I’ll pray for you.”

Then we started walking. We were hot, and our sleeping bags and clothing were still wet and heavy.

We decided to stop at a gas station. I was dying for water, so I got the biggest bottle I could find. I can still remember how wonderful it felt to take that first drink. We walked out of the gas station and walked to a bus station, waiting for a bus that would eventually take us to the subway.

Exhausted, I climbed onto the bus, clutching my newly purchased water like a life-giving prize. There was a large group from a country in Africa sitting in the front of the bus. As I walked by them, one of them grabbed me, and because he didn’t speak any English, he made a drinking gesture with his hand then pointed to my water and then himself.

Not my water! I was so thirsty, and it was so hot. And I had spent my very last dollar on that water.

But then I was reminded of the words of the Gospel: “When I was thirsty, you gave me to drink.”

Unable to get those words out of my head, with a sigh, I grudgingly handed over my bottle. He passed it to his whole group, each of whom drank it gratefully. I, in the meantime, tried not to pout or lick my lips and patted myself on the back for a good deed.

Finally we made our way to the subway and to the stop for our hotel.

Melissa and I walked up the steps of the subway station and were greeted by a man selling water.

I had no money left. Even though I wanted more water, I said, “No.”

But then the man began to speak to us. He asked us if we were Christians.

Absolutely, we told him. That is why we were there.

He told us that he used to be a strong Christian, but he had become addicted to drugs. However, he said, seeing all the young people gathered for World Youth Day had made him want to find God again.

I didn’t even know how to respond. I told him I’d keep him in my prayers, and in kindness, he gave us a free bottle of water. My water was replenished; I had been rewarded!

As we were walking away, I was kicking myself for giving my cross to Carl. I had known that the person I was supposed to give it to would cross my path, but I was impatient.

I said as much to Melissa, and she said she had a cross that had been given to her. So she took it off, gave it to me, and we walked back to give it to the man with the water. I handed it to him and told him it had been blessed by the pope and that I would keep him in my prayers.

I asked him for his name and was shocked by his reply.

“Carl,” he said.

I really do believe God works in mysterious ways. I still pray for Carl.

Both of them.