This was a week to consider saints. Obvious ones like Saints Peter and Julian of Norwich. But also ones who lived among us but are now dead to this world, yet alive in another. That word dead always lands with a thud, even when I write it. Thankfully, it’s not the last word. Jesus saw to that.
Well, the last place I expected to meet a saint was at the Registry of Motor Vehicles. Normally, on Wednesday mornings I’m with Community Bible Study but yesterday, instead, I tended to my “bad plates.” So, after failing to book an appointment on-line, I drove to the RMV since Wednesdays from 9-10, senior citizens can come without an appointment.
Lets just say, I had no clue there were so many old folks, like me, still driving. When I arrived the line snaked around the building and into the parking lot. I should’ve packed a lunch. Some muttered, others checked phones, but most shifted to cushion tired knees and feet, while we paced in place.
Once inside, the line continued. The place was packed with people. Finally, at the Customer Service desk, Izzy smiled, welcomed and asked how she could help. Like I was all she had to do this day, as she shifted in her chair to accommodate a pregnant belly. “Sorry, the baby’s kicking.” We chatted, two moms, different races but kindred spirits. Once resettled, Izzy did her job of helping. Afterwards, I thanked her for her kindness and resourcefulness. Then added, “You’re a wonderful face on the RMV, Izzy,”
And she was that and more. Saint Izzy. Our exchange brought to mind the quote by C.S. Lewis in The Weight of Glory. “There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal...it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit…”
I still have much to learn from ordinary saints. They’re everywhere. But it’s a mistake to just look in churches. If I do, I just might miss the one next door, in line at Market Basket or at the Registry of Motor Vehicles.
Or you, Beloved Saint.
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