"…for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions."

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Mrs. Eiding had nothing.

I knew Mrs. Eiding many years ago, only for a brief period of time. Mary (who was then my girlfriend) and I would take Holy Communion to her once a month after Church on Sunday.

As I said, Mrs. Eiding had nothing. She was very old, and she was destitute. She lived in a low-income nursing home in downtown Baton Rouge. The nursing home was dirty and poorly lit and the ceilings seemed too low for a grown man to stand upright. On a Sunday morning, many residents would be scattered here and there in the hallways in their wheelchairs looking lost and afraid, drifting in and out of consciousness, while the stench of human waste wafted all around.

On our visits, Mary and I would make our way through these heartbreaking corridors, taking the sacrament to fellow parishioners. We learned to save Mrs. Eiding for last. When we knocked on Mrs. Eiding’s door, a caregiver would invariably ask us to wait a moment while they adjusted Mrs. Eiding’s hairpiece. The door would open into her tiny cinderblock room. A couple of rays of morning sunshine might make their way through the small dingy window, but really, sweet Mrs. Eiding’s face illuminated the room with brightness and warmth. As we crowded into the musty room, she would take Mary’s hand and kiss it and tell us how happy she was to see us. She seemed to treat everyone with the same affection, and it was so genuine that she was beloved of even the battle-worn veterans on the staff.

We would hold hands and pray and she received the sacrament with profound reverence. Afterward she would offer us peppermint sticks while we chatted. She would give me a handful of medals with an image of the Blessed Mother on them. "For your classmates," she would say. "You could tell them about the Blessed Mother. A lot of people don’t know about the Blessed Mother, and you could tell them."

Friends, Mrs. Eiding was not out of her mind. She was coherent and sharp. She knew where she was and she knew that she had nothing: no possessions, a feeble body, crippled legs.

Mrs. Eiding was not out of her mind; Mrs. Eiding was out of this world. For though she ostensibly had nothing she radiated gratitude and mercy; she exuded faith and hope and love. Her life, while it might not have amounted to much by some standards, was a testament of faith, a proclamation of the good news that the Kingdom of God is at hand. For although she was imprisoned by poverty and old age Mrs.Eiding was a free subject of Christ her savior, freely giving everything she had in showing forth God’s love in the world, as did his Blessed Mother to whom she was so devoted.

"…for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions."

Amen.