An inspiration named Mary
So, too, on the campaign trail. Mary had to be there out on the hustings, and when she was, we were all Mary's helpers. We carried her bags, made sure she had a seat on the bus or knew the schedule. She knew she'd get where she needed to go. It's just that the story was so much more interesting than the logistics.
The last time I saw Mary, most of her beautiful words had been taken from her because of a stroke. My husband and I sat and chatted with her about politics, gossiping about who was misbehaving. She nodded, sometimes commented, and chuckled with us. When it was time to leave, her caretaker asked us if we might drop them at a 5 o'clock mass. No problem, we said. Mary determinedly walked up a rather steep hill to the car and got in the front seat. We asked the caretaker which church. "I don't know," she said. "Mary always picks different ones."
Then, without missing a beat, Mary proceeded to direct us to the church, like a traffic cop giving directions. She always knew where she was going.
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