An Unexpected Gem

Anybody that knows me knows that I love going on pilgrimages and retreats. I love travelling to places where nobody knows me or my story or my past and I can just be. We often find God in these places because we are open to him and because very often these locations are anointed by healing or an apparition or both.

Two years ago, I was helping one of my children with his family’s health situation. Everyone was stable but they wanted some moral support (and help with the laundry and scrubbing the toilet!) and I was happy to be needed. Almost every day for 18 days I went to the hospital so I decided I would try to make each day a mini-pilgrimage. I was in New York City so it was easy to find many different churches to visit when I needed a break.

There were 2 churches that I passed regularly while walking from Penn Station to the hospital. I didn’t go to Mass at either one but I did stop in to pay my respects to the Blessed Sacrament and offer up prayers of thanksgiving for the healing of my family. Also, air conditioning! It was August when I was there so it was a real blessing to get a break from the heat and humidity.

One day I took the wrong exit out of the train station. When I got to street level, I looked around and could see a steeple topped by a cross. I hoped it was a Catholic church. I walked in that direction but there was some construction going on so I had to go around the block. I wondered if there was indeed a church, would it be boarded up like some others I had seen in my daily travels. I kept walking because I had to find out!

When I finally arrived at St. John the Baptist church, I took one look inside through the open doors and knew I was home! This little gem of a church is beautifully decorated in traditional style. There were statues with kneelers, candles, paintings, even a little shrine to St. Padre Pio that contained one of his socks and one of his gloves. I walked around this treasure for a few minutes undisturbed. Although this church is right in the heart of midtown it was an oasis of quiet. It was hard to pray in there, though. There were too many beautiful things I wanted to look at!

At one point a very kind gentlemen greeted me. He was obviously familiar with the place and told me about the fire that had occurred there and about his sister, a parishioner at this church before she died. When I meet people like that, I always think of St. Paul’s letter to the Hebrews when he reminds us that we need to, ‘show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.’

There were a few other churches that I visited on that trip but the most special one had to be this little jewel in Midtown.

To be continued…