Angelus News | May 17, 2019 | Vol. 4 No. 18

IMAGE VIA PASADENA PLAYHOUSE
Natalie Woolams-Torres (left) as “Letter Writer No. 2,” Nia Vardalos (center) as “Sugar,” and Giovanni Adams as “Letter Writer No. 3” in the stage
adaptation of “Tiny Beautiful Things” at the Pasadena Playhouse.
“Hey Sugar, I’m almost 67 years old
and have worked steadily since the age
of 14. I’m divorced, childless, collect
$1,417 a month in Social Security,
and make approximately the salary of
a fast-food worker in faithful service to
my vocation of writing.
“I pay $1,450 for a teeny one-bedroom
apartment which, due to on-site
construction noise, I’ve had to vacate
for the last five months, six days a
week, 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., in favor of
working in the library. I’m tired and I
feel like a worldly failure. I’m afraid of
becoming so debilitated I can’t work,
then dying of Alzheimer’s as my mother
and maternal grandmother did.
“Sometimes I feel as if I’ve done
my entire life wrong, missed some
essential lesson or tenet or turn. On
the other hand, I’m appalled by my
self-obsession. Why should I have a
roof over my head when so many of
my brothers and sisters don’t? Have
I ever for a second truly loved my
neighbor as myself?
“How, on this next leg of the journey,
can I try to love God with all my
soul, all my heart, all my mind, all my
strength?”
“Reach!” “Breathe in — breathe
out!” and “Tackle your life!” don’t
quite cut it here. So I went to Mass
the next morning on behalf of both
myself and a world in anxiety, conflict,
and pain.
Afterward, I fell into conversation
with a fellow parishioner. She’s a wife
and mother from an upscale neighborhood
who, turns out, has also been
going through a “rough patch” (we
cracked up at the euphemism): childhood
wounds, family wounds, wounds
in the Church.
“I’m starting to think that this struggle,
this poverty of spirit, this longing,
this sense of exile and that our lives
aren’t bearing fruit — this is it!” she
said at one point. “This is the Way to
Mt. Calvary! We’re never going to find
a true resting place, here on earth.”
“But the Eucharist!” I added. “We’re
so hungry for it. We just come and
throw ourselves upon the Eucharist
each day.” We exchanged numbers,
embraced, and parted sisters.
Afterward I thought about how this
woman and I had seen each other
many times at Mass, smiled, acknowledged
each other, waved, but never
talked — so why this particular day?
Who knows. It was a Tiny Beautiful
Thing.
Heather King is a blogger, speaker and the author of several books.
May 17, 2019 • ANGELUS • 29