I have always been a night owl. Even at university I felt that 11 o’clock in the evening was a good time to start cramming for exams the next day. Later I learned that this was not a good way to study, and often the results confirmed it. However, it had become a habit, and as an adult before the days of the Internet, I would often be listening to “talk radio” late into the night. 

One of these stations had the best catchphrase ever, “CKO radio: You’ve got to listen to talk.” It was a reminder that we have to listen to others and to the feelings they are expressing so that we can have the wisdom to respond to their needs. 

I had a stark reminder of this a couple of weeks ago when I was sitting down late at night and I heard a voice message on my phone, “Hi, it’s Lisa, give me a call.” It has been over 14 years since I first met her on the street, and six years since she found sobriety and moved to another province with her four-year-old daughter. 

I have had many messages like this from her and they are inevitably followed by, “Could you lend me some money. I need gas for the car to take my daughter to the hospital for her appointment.” But this call was different. When I called back in the morning, she was excited to tell me that she has found a great church and that the pastor has asked her to take training to oversee the youth ministry. 

He told her that he has watched how she looks after her daughter who has special physical needs and feels she would be perfect for that ministry. There was excitement in her voice as for the first time in her life she felt recognized for her talents. 

“I have given up doom scrolling she said, “Instead, I read scripture every day.” 

From time to time, she would turn her phone camera to show me her daughter painting on a large sheet of paper. 

“She is so artistic, I can’t believe she is such a good child. I need lots of patience at times and there are often days when I just want to cry, but I remember our pastor telling the story of how an oyster produces a pearl. It is the tiny piece of sand that is an irritant that finally produces a beautiful pearl. I was so protective of my daughter at first because of her special physical needs, but now I have learned to let her take small risks that she can handle.”

Then, as if this was perhaps the reason for her call, she said, “Tell me about the Rosary. I have never understood it.” 

So, I explained that just as she is the closest one to her daughter, Mary is the closest one to her son Jesus and will talk to Him about our needs. But not only that, when we say the Rosary, we are really remembering the whole life and death of Jesus and how Mary was with Him at every moment, just as a mother is with her child. 

When we got off the phone, I sat and reminisced about our times together over the years. The day I met her in a downtown shelter, and she delighted in showing me her artwork that she carried with her: artwork that was an escape from the memories of an abusive childhood and being sent to the city to get treatment that never materialized, and finding herself on the streets. 

The times when my wife and I would visit when she was trying to make ends meet by getting any job that she could handle. The visits to hospital when she was being treated for her mental health after a suicide attempt. Helping her to pack her belongings for her trip back home with her daughter to be reconciled with her parents. 

All of these went through my mind, and each in its own way brought me renewed hope in this Jubilee Year of Hope. A simple, apparently inconsequential meeting many years ago was enough to light a spark which brought a young lady home: home to her family, home to herself, and home to the Lord, and all along the way, it was important to listen to talk.