Train of Thought

"Suffer, pray, work for the Immaculata and she will take care of you and your problems." - St. Maximlian

6:30pm on a Train from Turin to Bologna, Italy

The trip wasn't going to be short, but nothing to fear, it doesn't bother me. It's a chance to study in blessed silence, for a few hours, without the telephone ringing and someone knocking on the door. A though crossed my mind, which made me smile. "Want to bet that the Lord plays one of his usual tricks?!? Who knows who he'll make me meet on this train!"

I sit down. Beside and in front me: no one. I take out my text and begin to study, finally. Ten minutes later a mail voice interrupts me: "Is this free?" indicating the seat. "Yes." He carries two suitcases, tells a young girl sit in front of me, and so it goes. I glance conspicuously at my "guest." She's a little young than me, perhaps a little more than twenty years old. She takes a book from his bag and begins to read. She reads his, and I resume mine.

After a while, a thought disturbs me: "Am I really not going to say anything? Maybe she is sitting next to me for a reason?" I respond to myself, "Oh, come on! Why not leave her in peace? Can't you see she's reading a book? Why do I need to bother her?" I re-entered my studies. Every once and awhile, however, I look at her out of the corner of my eye. That voice returns: "I don't know why you go through the trouble of going out of the house, inviting people in, propose a thousand different social events, and you don't even say one word to the person sitting in front of you!" Ugh. Here we go again. Jiminy Cricket is at it again!

The young woman is sound asleep... so I can resume reading with a clear conscience: I couldn't possibly wake her up!

It's now 8pm. I'm getting hungry. The young woman is sitting up, awake and munching on something. I decide to listen to Jiminiy. Besides, if she doesn't want to talk, I'm sure she'll make it obvious. I offer her something, she smiles but refuses. My antennae tell met hat she wouldn't mind exchanging a few words. Very well, "to the attack!"

Her name is Paula. She is from Bologna. She was in Turin to see her boyfriend. She's going home now and is a bit sad because it will be another week before they see each other.  She asks me a bunch of questions, to which I openly respond. When she learns that I'm a Missionary, she wants to know where I live, what I do, why did I decide to do something so out of the ordinary?

I seek to answer simply, explaining that I am on mission in Italy, but also available to cross the Ocean. ... Even Italy is mission territory. "Every person is free to accept or refuse God, but first of all each person has the right to learn about him, to know him. They have a right to know that God became man and died on the cross for us."

Paula interrupted me. "You know, I'm not a believer. My parents never taught me to believe, only to be good. But, I would like to know something about God, because I can see that you really believe what you say."

We've reached a point of mutual respect, but we fly by one station after another, I hope that the train isn't going too quickly!