The room was empty, except for this prayer card taped to the wall. Somehow in the emptiness she beckoned me from the dark hallway. Come pray with me for a second. Come reflect on the gravity of finding me in this lonely space.
I walked across the now empty patient room, broken glass crunched under my feet, smashed light fixtures hung from the walls, paint peeled in long strips from the ceiling, an empty broken place and yet there she was, waiting.
Without thinking, I crossed myself and recited her prayer. A prayer I learned so long ago in grade school was instantly escaping from my lips.
Hail Mary full of Grace, the Lord is with thee.
Blessed are thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus.
Holy Mary Mother of God,
Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Amen.
Never did this prayer have more weight than in those few moments, standing alone in an abandon Veterans Hospital. I prayed for whomever had taped her to the wall. I prayed that they were healed, recovered, or at peace. I prayed for our broken world and the things we leave undone or abandon.
I reached out and touched Mary’s face. I thought about liberating her from this space. Yet, I resisted the urge to peel her from the wall and take her home. It didn’t feel right to leave her to be destroyed when this building is demolished in a few short months. Yet it didn’t feel right to remove her. This was her home, her sacred space, where she provided comfort to a veteran.
I walked out of that room feeling the power that our faith tradition bring us through prayer. I felt the comfort that only God can bring to us when we are truly lost in an empty, lonely place. I felt a connection to the veteran that stayed in that room. All from a prayer card taped to the wall. A solid reminder that we, as Christians, are all one.