c. 1997 Religion News Service

(Sara Anderson Hsiao is a writer and publicist for World Vision, the Christian relief and development organization.)

UNDATED _ She must think I am someone else, I said to myself.

It was the eve of her 85th birthday, and Mother Teresa was spending two hours … with me.

Maybe she did not hear me correctly: I’m really no one special _ just a writer working for a humanitarian organization, I repeated. I had come to talk to her about possibly collaborating on work with those dying of AIDS in India. I do not remember the details of the conversation, except that more discussions were to follow.

However, I do remember how I felt in Mother Teresa’s presence.

In fact, I will never forget it.

On that hot, muggy August day in 1995, Calcutta was a place where images of the desperately impoverished danced with vivid colors and exotic sounds and smells. The streets were teeming with people: A thin, old man carrying two big, colorfully-dressed men in his rickshaw, running through a thick maze of motored vehicles; barefoot children with bangles on their ankles begging car to car in the heavy traffic; a woman sleeping on the narrow sidewalk as others walked over her; the smell of heavy spices as another woman cooked in an alleyway.

Peace of any sort seemed oceans away.

I turned down a small bumpy street and knocked on a large wooden door.

There was no sign announcing we had arrived at the home of a Nobel Peace Prize winner, only a number. A sister of the Missionaries of Charity greeted us and led us through a small garden to wait for Mother Teresa.

Mother was at prayer.

We waited in a modest room off the kitchen, where old curtains served as doors. I was filled with anxiety and excitement, but as Mother Teresa entered the room and took my hand, I felt a quiet and comforting peace.

She was frail, stooping with age, and much smaller than I had imagined. However, the grip of her wrinkled hand was strong and powerful _ this hand that had cradled the head of dying peasants and had greeted many of the greatest leaders of our time. Her crooked feet told of the miles she had walked caring for the world’s most destitute and forgotten. Her simple blue and white sari spoke of her humility. Her deep-set eyes expressed the desperation she had seen and the compassion she embodied.

Her smile declared the joy and love her work and faith gave her.

I listened intently for her words of wisdom. Her voice was faint but resilient. An hour passed and she continued to talk with me. She must mistakenly think that I am rich, powerful … or really in trouble, I said to myself.

Many others waited for her ear, or her touch, or both. I tried to excuse myself. But she insisted I remain with her. Perhaps she saw in me a brokenness that needed compassion, or a poverty in spirit that needed repair.

I tried to pepper her with questions about her work and her motivation.

Minutes later, a sister came by to tell her that a class of former street children wished to perform to celebrate her birthday. They were from a local school she had founded. Again, I tried to leave, but she took my arm, leaning on me for physical strength, and led me to the courtyard. She wanted me to sit beside her.

I was in tears as about 30 children danced and sang to honor this old woman next to me who symbolized a beacon of hope to millions throughout the world. I was overwhelmed by her humility and joy.

It was clear her faith was the pinnacle of all she did, and all she lived for. And it was clear that her faith was filling me with grace.”What is the most important lesson you have learned?”I asked her, during a quiet moment.

She replied,”To pray and to sacrifice.” I review those words every day _ to pray and to sacrifice. When I think of their source, the images in that garden courtyard off a loud and chaotic Calcutta street come quickly to mind. And I’m usually overwhelmed with emotion.

It is humbling, as I try each day to follow her advice.

But those words are not the most important lesson Mother Teresa taught me. I realized that day she really was not mistaking me for anyone else. Like millions of others around the world, she saw my brokenness and showed me respect, compassion and humility in return.

That is the gift, the lesson I will always remember from my two hours by Mother Teresa’s side.

God bless you, Mother Teresa.

MJP END HSIAO