by Fr. Tom
I met Steven last year as he came through the lunch line. In his late 40’s with a grizzled beard and contagious smile he asked me, “Pray that I get a job Father. It’s hard for guys my age to get back into the work force.” Sure, I told him, what’s your name? “Steven,” he said. ”You can call me Steven the heathen. I’ll let you do the praying and I’ll do the looking.”
Every day after that he’d ask me, “Still praying for me, Father?” Yup, I’d reply, and are you still looking? “Sure am,” he’d say. One day he asked me about my brown robe. I am a Franciscan, I told him. “Don’t worry Father,” he said, “one day they’ll promote you. Then you can be a Jesuit and wear black!” Then a few months ago he sought me out in the dining room. “I got a job, Father, you can stop praying for me.” I congratulated him but assured him I’d still pray for him.
I ran into Steven yesterday on the street. He gave me a hug and said, “Hey, Father haven’t gotten that promotion yet, eh? Still in brown.” That’s right Steven, and are you still employed? I asked. He smiled, “You betcha!”