St John Paul II Love Story

In this week, leading up to John Paul II's canonization, my Pope has been on my mind every day.  I have been remembering the Lent and Easter of 2004, when I walked the streets of Rome.  I have written a bit about some of my memories (not as much as I would have liked) and I have been slowly working my way through my journal of those months and the pictures I took.   The journey back in time has been a poignant one and I am digesting the memories, viewing the present in the light of the past and seeing new patterns, new stories in the arch of my life.  (God's stories are long ones!)

I have been am thinking about how I saw my dear Papa at least a dozen times whilst in Rome.   The first time I saw him was February 8th 2004 during a Sunday Angelus that he lead from his window and the last time was a Wednesday Audience on April 28th of the same year.   Every time I was in his presence, whether it was in the piazza, or in the Paul VI Audience Hall, in St. Peter's at the altar or in the popemobile he exuded such a magnetism of holiness, peace and love.  To call forth such a swell of devotion and love from all of us in the piazza by simply appearing, a scrap of white in a faraway window!

Feb 8, '04 ~ Sunday Angelus

Today, however, I want to write my  "John Paul II Love Story."  I was inspired by Jenny at Mama Needs Coffee.   I have thought and thought about how to condense lifelong influence into something manageable, something that will sum up everything that John Paul II was and is to me.  I have come to the conclusion that that goal is simply not possible.  I can but tell of a small moment in my life with him.  It was perhaps an inconsequential moment, inasmuch as countless others have perhaps experienced similar. But it was the most important moment to me.

April 28, 04 ~ Wednesday Audience

I was at a Wednesday audience with my friend, A.  We were leaving Rome very soon and I knew that this would be the last time that I would see John Paul II on this earth.   He was so frail, struggling so much.  My heart would ache when I would see him, and wonder if he missed being able to walk and shake hands, smile and talk clearly, play sports and swim, pick up babies and clap.  I'm sure he missed those things!
It was a glorious day, breezy and warm with a radiantly blue sky.  St. Peter's, beautiful in any light, was shining in the sunlight.  I listened to him speak in his slow gentle slurred voice.  He spoke on confidence in God, in the "serene trust of the faithful one" even in hard times.  He said: "Even in solitude and the loss of the closest ties of affection, the person of prayer is never completely alone since the merciful God is bending over him."   And I was brought to tears, yet again, through his words as they spoke to my heart.

A. and I were close to the front, and on the middle aisle where he would pass by in the white car.  I had become wise enough to lay aside my camera and my desire for the perfect picture, the swooning greenhorn mistake that I had already made before.  So, as he drew closer, I gazed at him without stopping.  And in that bright Rome sunshine, in a breathless moment, he looked at me.  Straight into my eyes with his eyes.  They were smiling eyes in a face that no longer could.  He was waving with his dear hand and for that moment there was only me and him, locked eyes and Love.

Could he see my love in my eyes?  Could he see my aching heart that beat faster for love and joy in his presence?  He was so strong in his weakness, expressive in his deep stillness and powerful in his powerlessness.  He was carrying Jesus to us all in the piazza.  God who is Love was shining through his transparent soul and I was caught and held in those rays for a moment that I will never forget.

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At Jenny's there are more Love stories.  Beautiful stories.  Go read them.