Nayeli's Blessing

(revision)

Being brought up in a Roman Catholic family, by somewhat devout parents, I consider myself no novice when it comes to religious ritual. In fact, after years of ritualistic blessings before, after, and between my forced indoctrination, I consider myself almost an expert on receiving, partaking in, and observing religious traditional bullshit. I can honestly take on the role of priesthood in front of a full congregation. I have seen the show too many times. By now I=ve got the lines down. Just throw me a robe and teach me the art of monotone speech. That=s what happens when a watcher attends the same activity at least once a week for 18 years.

I have vivid memories of an old man, out of touch with youth, marking a cross on my head, my mouth, and my chest. I remember wondering if he thought this meant something to me. I remember wondering if he thought this would keep me under some spell of Catholic devotion. I remember wondering if the priest truly believed that Christ=s image was being burned into my mind, stapled to my lips, and locked in my heart. Although from time to time, I have caught myself participating in this organized hypnosis, I can honestly say that I have experienced more spiritual awareness on a toilet than I have in any church. I am a Aconfirmed@ Catholic, with ashes on her forehead and oils on her feet, who doesn=t believe in a god.

Ironically the experience that has proven to have one of the deepest impacts on my life was a religious blessing. The night before I left for college was shared with a family I have grown to love as my own. Although the Ramirez family was introduced to me as a charity case, it has become very dear to me. One of the members of this family is a four-year-old angel named Nayeli. This beautiful girl has proven to me how developed a small child=s mind can be. I am amazed at how quickly this toddler, born in Mexico, learned to speak two languages at once. Her basic Spanish came first, but her English progresses alongside it now. Not only has she taught me how quickly children can learn and how fast their little brains consume and process these lessons, but she has given me gifts that I will carry in my heart my entire life.

As my last night in Vegas aged to a spoil, I began to say my goodbyes. I kissed all of the members of this little family one last time. I glanced around the one-room apartment for the final time. I looked at four pairs of soft brown feet on the paper thin carpet. My glance shot from the broken television, to the twin bed they all shared, to the old brown couch. Each of the bits of furniture was in the same room, and above it all hung a painting of Jesus Christ. Just under that hung a picture of my parents.

When I faced the yellow, faded door to leave, Nayeli came running toward me. She stood at my feet, with these little brown arms stretching for me, and a pair of dewy brown eyes smiling up at me. I picked her up and held the fragile package in my arms. The delicate structure of her tiny body sitting on mine gave me an inner peace. I felt as if I almost shouldn=t breathe, for even by breathing could ruin the tissue paper sculpture I was holding. She smiled and whispered, AI love your, Sara,@ in her hushed, pink kitten purr. She looked into my eyes, pulled out her soft brown thumb, no bigger than a bean, and drew a cross on my head, my lips, and my chest. It was the old blessing I=d received so many times in my past. It was the symbol for keeping God in your mind, in your words, and in your heart.

The simple act of innocent love had more significance in my life than a thousand priests could ever accomplish. True, I am not a religious person. I have undoubtedly ruined the dreams of many Catholic ancestors praying rosaries for the redemption of my soul. I cringe at the thought of my grandmother ever entering the same room as this paper. But in that moment, none of this mattered.

To me, Nayeli=s blessing wasn=t about making myself feel better about doing things I knew were wrong, or keeping my parents happy, or securing me a stand by ticket in heaven=s airport. Maybe I haven=t had some marvelous salvation, and maybe I=m not running out of here on Sunday to experience mass in a new way, and maybe I=m not ready to join society in blindly accepting, while denying curiosity and question.

Nayeli=s blessing was so much more than that. What mattered to me was that the blessing came from the kind of innocent, selfless love only a child can know. That purity is non-existent in the adult world. She only knows that touching my face and chest that way will keep me good, and strong, and safe. So, with pure love she gave me that gift. Although Nayeli is oblivious to hate, cruelty, and worst of all, detachment, she knows goodness and love. She truly wanted me to be taken care of by some force. She has yet to come to that point in her life when she=ll question all of those ideas we are taught as truth. She believes her mother=s teachings, that giant man=s touch, and all those people=s eyes who wait for their turn to be blessed. She accepts this for now, and doesn=t ask any questions. Some people never will. But, either way, at four years old, she understands that this act is a blessing.

Knowing this, Nayeli=s touch changed my life. I took the blessing for what she meant by it. It represents all the human goodness there is in this world. Children own most of it. I=ll forever remember that somebody out there is hoping I do the right thing. Surprisingly enough I do have morals, even if I don=t accept someone else=s. I live by the code of my own philosophies. Since Nayeli reminded me of this, I have made a conscious effort to be true to my own set of commandments. Being true to myself in all situations keeps my strength up. Knowing there is someone who cares so deeply for my well being makes me feel safe. The best part is that that someone has no reason, other than pure love, to care if I am happy. So that angel=s blessing did what it was intended to do. It keeps me good, strong, and safe. Nayeli=s blessing.