To Touch the Face of God

To Touch the Face of God Submitted by Lee Justen

I was headed back to Colton after spending the Christmas Holidays with my family. I shared the house with Nena and Marleta. They were still visiting family. It was somewhere in the mid-seventies, December 29. Jeanette was with me as she wanted to spend some time with her dearly beloved sister, Francie, who lived in San Bernardino. On New Year’s Eve we decided to go to the evening Mass at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church. OLG Parish was on the “other” side of the city. Its members were majority Hispanic. At the time they were building a new church. Most of the construction was being done by the parishioners, most of whom worked in the construction industry doing the hard labor of building buildings. They took pride in their ability to erect a new house of worship. Temporarily they had built a small chapel in which Mass could be offered and the Sacraments administered. In the middle of the day a fierce and cold wind had developed as clouds shadowed the sun. By the time we left for Mass the wind had become stingingly cold. This was the kind of wind that tore off tree limbs and turned over garbage cans. This was the kind of wind that pushed you along and you had to fight to keep your balance. We arrived at the chapel and entered. It was filled with its parishioners, huddled closely, kneeling on the floor. There were no kneelers or benches. As I knelt, I immediately felt a strong and abiding Presence inherent in the faithful and loving community kneeling in prayer. It seemed all present were One. . . united in the experience of the One and Sacred Being. When Mass was over, we got in the car and started for home. A few feet into our ride I noticed an elderly woman holding her shawl tightly around her as she walked to her home. The wind was pushing her along as she fought to keep her balance. I stopped the car and offered her a ride. She hesitated at first, but we insisted, and she accepted our offer. Her little home was a few blocks away and when we reached it she invited us in. Once again, the precious and Sacred Presence enveloped us. She ushered us into her small parlor which housed a large and beautiful cheche. It was obvious that she had lovingly erected it herself. She bade us make ourselves comfortable on the sofa and she served us delicious tamales. We visited and savored the tamales. It was time to leave but we were gifted again with a package of her delicious food. We embraced each other. Jeanette and I returned home but The Presence of the Holy remained with me as it had been manifested by the humble community and the loving Senora with whom we had “broken bread.” John Glenn soared the skies to “touch the face of God.” I did not have to soar the skies. I touched the face of God on this humble patch of earth.

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