How the Holy Spirit Saved the Heart of a Lonely Widower

I have been an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion for over 25 years, and it has been a truly rewarding experience – in many different ways.

I have had the honor and privilege of bringing Holy Communion to many people in many places who are unable to attend holy Mass on Sunday. These people are either hospitalized, in nursing homes, hospice centers, assisted living facilities, or homebound because of age or infirmity. I love being part of this ministry. It has brought me in touch with some amazing people.

I want to share a short story about one of these people and what took place almost seven years ago. I was recently reminded of it when I came across a prayer card I had kept.  The card was John Allen’s prayer card.

When John passed, he was 90 years old, and I had been bringing him Holy Communion every Sunday for several years. For some reason, when I looked at his prayer card with his name on it and the picture of the Risen Christ in the background, my head swelled with memories of this man.  In short order the keyboard began following my prompts.

John Allen

John was an Army veteran who had spent almost 30 years in the Far East.  He had also been married for 60 years. Sadly, his wife, Mary, had passed away several years earlier. He still loved her dearly and missed her greatly.

John was not delusional or suffering from dementia or anything like that. His mind was sharp and clear. Physically, however, John was deaf (hearing aids helped a tiny bit), and he needed a wheelchair.

That Sunday in 2016

When I arrived at his front door that day, I pushed the doorbell. I heard the chime, but he did not.  Inside, several strobe lights began flashing, notifying him that someone was at the door. He was expecting me, so the front door was unlocked. I walked in, and he gave out with a big, “Hey, hey, good morning.” I more or less hollered back, “Hey John, how are you doing today?”  He was always wearing a smile, and he responded, “Well, I’m still here.”  We both laughed.

But John was facing a problem.  He picked up a newspaper from a few days before and pointed to a story. “Have you gotten any feedback on this?” I looked at the paper.  He had it opened to an article dealing with the Church’s newly revised guidelines on cremation. I shrugged and told him I had not. He says, “I have a problem, and maybe you can help me out. I need some guidance.”

Asking the Holy Spirit to help me out

I am not “Father Larry” or “Deacon Larry.” I’m just Larry. So, I immediately felt a bit insecure because I do not like telling folks what they should or should not do when it comes to their personal faith issues.

I quietly asked the Holy Spirit to help me out – and quickly. Then I said, “I’ll try, John.  But I may not be able to. I will go to our pastor and ask him if necessary.”

Being part of this ministry can have unexpected rewards. God was about to bless me with a glimpse into the hearts of two Catholics, a man, and a woman, one living and one passed. They were people of faith who married in the faith and lived it. And they shared a love that did not die upon the death of one. Instead, it simply continued and still existed.

John said to me, “You know, I am upset about this article. It says we Catholics must bury the ashes of loved ones in sacred ground.”

I said, “That isn’t anything new. Some folks are scattering ashes over the Gulf of Mexico or off mountaintops or sharing them among family members. Those kinds of things are not approved.”

A Dilemma

“Look,” he says. “I have Mary’s ashes here with me. I talk to her every day. I’m all alone. With her remains here, I feel she never really left. I get such comfort from that. Do I have to get her over to the cemetery?”

I was looking at him, and saw tears filling his eyes. He wanted to remain a GOOD Catholic man, and he still loved his wife and wanted to be loyal to her.

I knew John would give her up if the Church required it, even though the pain he would feel might be unimaginable. It did not matter. He would be true to his faith no matter what. I was looking at a man who would have gladly embraced a martyr’s crown if he had been called upon to do so.

I also knew that cremated remains are supposed to be kept intact and placed in a proper vessel, but that the remains are not to be kept in the home.  Nervously, I began to answer, but he continued. “I have a spot down at the VA cemetery for both of us. I made arrangements with the funeral home, and when I pass, they are going to take us together down to the VA and bury us next to each other.”

I breathed a sigh of great relief.  Casting doubt to the wind, I told him, “John, that is great. She can stay here with you. She is encased in a vessel and is scheduled for burial. You will make the trip to the VA together and be interred together. Don’t worry about a thing.”

The Holy Spirit was involved

I will never forget the smile that broke out across his face. I was not sure if I gave him proper ‘guidance’. No matter, in this case, I am sure the Holy Spirit helped me out.

The “Instruction Ad resurgendum cum Christo a bulletin regarding the burial of the deceased and the conservation of the ashes in the case of cremation,” issued by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith on August 15,  2016, explains Church teaching on cremation.

Since arrangements with the funeral home had been made for John and Mary’s joint internment all was technically in order with church protocol.  John passed several months later and he and Mary traveled together in a limo to their final resting place at the VA Hospital Cemetery at. Petersburg, FL.