Father Ben just finished saying Mass and decided to spend a few minutes of thanksgiving in the adoration chapel behind the church. He entered, knelt and profoundly bowed before our Lord before saying his prayers of thanksgiving.
A few minutes later he heard the creaking sound of the glass door. It was Jason, the youngest of his altar servers. The boy and his family had just transferred from another city after having lost their father who died in a freak road accident.
Father Ben whispered a little prayer for Jason and his family. “Lord, perhaps, this little boy, who has a generous heart, may grow up one day to become your priest. I pray that you may guide him, and if you wish, through this worthless instrument that I am, while I may and whenever I can. Amen.”
He stood up and saw how intensely Jason was texting. Texting? Father Ben, couldn’t contain his surprise. But there was Jason kneeling on the pew and intensely tapping in whatever message in Heaven he wanted to send.
Years in the priesthood, however, have taught father Ben not to immediately judge a boy by his phone. He was aware, even though he was allergic to such gadgets, that these devices could actually be used to pray.
He approached him and asked, “Jason, what are you doing?”
Jason gave father Ben his warm and cordial smile, took the priest’s hand to receive a blessing and replied, “I’m deleting prayers, father Ben.”
“Deleting prayers,” father Ben was completely bewildered. “Shouldn’t we be saying instead of deleting prayers?”
“Yes, Father, but I have to delete the prayers so that there would be more space in my INBOX.”
“Prayers?” father Ben couldn’t still quite understand. He sat down beside Jason.
“Actually, they are prayers that dad composed,” Ben proudly showed father Ben.
“Your dad composed prayers and saved them in the phone?”
“Yup!”
“Then why are you deleting them?”
“Because when some are answered, I try my best to memorize them as my own prayer and then delete them. I always do it in front of Jesus so that He would keep them for me.”
“And what if they’re not answered?”
“Then I just keep them in the phone till they’re answered.”
“And if they aren’t?”
“Dad used to say that prayers are always answered.”
“Yes, but sometimes not exactly in the way we expect.”
“For the unanswered ones, I write them down on paper and put them in a sealed envelope.”
“What do you do with it?”
“I keep it, and every year I put it at our Lady’s feet in the grotto in the Shrine of our Lady of Lourdes.”
“So, what is your favorite prayer by dad?”
“I like all of them.”
“By the way, is that his phone?”
“Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you Father. This was dad’s phone. And mom said I could use it. Even though it’s an outmoded model, it’s more valuable to me than all those advanced ones.”
“I’m sure it is,” Father Ben nodded. “But why write them down there?”
“Because on our birthdays he would compose one special prayer and send it to us.”
“Wow, that’s really nice!”
“Yep, and I will never delete his last prayer text to me on my birthday,” Jason confided.
“It’s on July 19, three days before dad’s fatal accident.”
“What did he ask Jesus?”
Jason tapped on his cell a few times and showed father Ben the message: THaNK U JASON, 4 BeING GOD’S BLeSSING 2 US 2DaY. I PRaY (HeRe & HoPeFuLLY 1 DaY N HeaVeN) THaT HE WiLL FiNiSH THe GooD WoRK HE STaRTED IN U. MaY GOD ReWaRD UR BIG HEART W THe BeST GiFT. 4 ME, IF HE WNTS, THiS WuD B 2 CaLL U 2 B HIS PRIEST. THiS WuD TRuLY RTuRN OuR THaNKS 2 HIM THRU U, OuR oNLY SON. LoVe DaD.
“Amen!” Father Ben made the sign of the Cross as he looked at the Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.