Waiting for a miracle

“We’re waiting for a miracle.” That’s what my friend Gloria (not her real name) tells people who ask how her brother-in-law John, in a coma for more than two months, is doing. Ever since last Easter when their mother had to be placed into permanent care, Gloria’s family spend every evening sharing visits to their Mother, who speaks and understands only Greek, and now the hospital where their husband, father and brother-in-law is. When their mother, in her late 80s was rushed to hospital after collapsing at home, doctors told the family she only had only hours to live. Remarkably, the mother, suffering from kidney failure when admitted to emergency, rallied. Given her advanced age and even though her Alzheimer's is getting noticeably worse, she is in relatively good physical health.

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It is painful to hear their mother ask her adult daughters where her “little girls” are. Meanwhile, even after tests doctors do not know the extent of the brain damage the 66-year-old John sustained when he collapsed. Until she went from hospital to the nursing home, the Mother had been lovingly looked after for many years by John and his wife. Her two sisters in Canada and the one in Greece, are very much worried about the fate of their sister, who is losing both her Mother and Husband. As Gloria points out: “She went from a three-person home to a one-person, very lonely one, almost overnight.”

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Gloria, her sister, who shares in nursing home and hospital visits and both their husbands work as hairdressers and barbers. They commute from the suburbs to downtown shops and salons, six days a week. At 73 years of age, Gloria’s husband is the eldest in this family of commuters. Though all have had to put relaxing after work aside for nightly nursing home and hospital visits, none of them complain. Theirs is and has always been a close and loving family. In addition to the worry over her mother and brother-in-law, Gloria attends physiotherapy sessions for leg and neck pains, source of which doctors have not been able to identify. “We’re waiting for a miracle” has been the steadfast prayer in my heart and at twice a week church service. I recently started attending the nearby St. Raphael Church. St. Raphael, whose name means “God heals” is one of seven angels who stand before the throne of God. My prayer asks for John to awake from his coma and to be sent home to his wife, “if it is God’s Will”‘; and to strengthen the family’s faith in the Almighty no matter what the outcome. Having many years ago changed my Christmas wishes to Christmas prayers, I confess that I, too, am hoping for a miracle for the wife so that she won’t be so alone. During the weeks that John has lain in a coma, I have learned some valuable lessons, the first of them being there is nothing on earth more important than family. Seeing the suffering of Gloria and family, I have also learned not to sweat the little things in life; and mostly to leave the worries over the growing sense of embitterment that seems to pervade the contemporary political scene to God and not myself. Another lesson seems to have come from Above. Never having heard of St. Bartholomew, the name came to me in an out-of-the-blue fashion while I was praying to St. Raphael. It was almost as if “someone” was asking me to pray to St. Bartholomew. Sad to say I had never known of St. Bartholomew, and when I Googled to find out about him, learned that scholars note there are complications about his name. Bartholomew is, of course, Nathanael Bartholomew, “Apostle of Healing”.

“In the Gospel of John,[1:45-51] Nathanael is introduced as a friend of Philip. He is described as initially being skeptical about the Messiah coming from Nazareth, saying: "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?", but nonetheless, follows Philip's invitation...Nathanael reappears at the end of John's gospel[21:2] as one of the disciples to whom Jesus appeared at the Sea of Galilee after the Resurrection.” (CatholicOnline).

But before ever coming to know this, I had started to read a book sent to me by my friend Michael Vallins. Written by Fulton Oursler, The Greatest Story Ever Told is “a classic retelling of the ever-new story of Jesus.”

Wanting to introduce his friend to Jesus, “Philip begged a free ride on a passing camel, hurrying some miles forward until he spied the friend who was named Nathanael Bartholomew lying under a fig tree. On the way back, “As Philip and Nathaniel caught sight of the Master, “Look!” called Jesus, waving to Nathanael from a distance. “An Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile.” “All the others smiled, as Jesus added: “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.” “Nathanael blinked. He had been under the fig tree. But that was miles beyond, where Jesus could not possibly have seen him. He stammered: “Master...” “But Jesus put a friendly arm around him. “Because I said to you that I saw you under the fig tree, you believe.” (The Greatest Story Ever Told, pg. 126).

Nathanael Bartholomew attended the Wedding at Cana with Jesus. Cana was his hometown. Here I had been searching on Google, but the story about Nathanael Bartholomew was waiting for me in the pages of the book I hadn’t yet read! Should anyone reading this offer a prayer to Saint Nathanael Bartholomew, for Gloria’s brother-in-law John, it would be so very much appreciated. It’s almost Christmas Eve with so many prayers to be offered on this Holiest of Nights. Meanwhile, this family who comfort each other amid heartache are a miracle of their own. Gloria’s words are left here as a Christmas prayer: Please Nathanael Bartholomew: “We’re waiting for a miracle”.

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