Sainthood is not reserved for the few

All Saints Day has always has been special to me. I am reminded of all the good and holy and God-fearing people I have known who are now with the Lord. I am reminded that sainthood is not reserved for the few who luck out, but for as many as will come to Him.

Now I’m not being presumptive. Jesus Christ will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, but I have known saints. I am sure of it. None is on the Church calendar, but how would any of us know the Gospel – which is to say, really appreciate the Gospel – if we had not witnessed it in the lives of those around us.

I think of my friend Leo. He was a businessman who gave me a job, but my relationship with him went way beyond employer-employee. He was the most generous, selfless, giving man I have ever known. He accepted people just like they were, and that included me.

Leo’s fairness, right-thinking, patience and honesty have been an example to me throughout my life. There are times I made him mad with my shenanigans, but he always put up with me benignly. His evenness would make me see how cruddy I had been. By the example of his life I could come to see the shortcomings in my own.

He had an accident one time, and it was a freak accident. He was backing up and hit a lady with his car, severely injuring her arm. I’ve never seen Leo so distraught about something. Besides seeing to her financially, he went to visit that woman every day until she recovered.

Leo would honor a commitment uncompromisingly, fully and without fail. I know that in his business he had an arrangement with another business. Although his partner fell down completely on his end, Leo never flinched. He was a man of his word.

Long after I stopped working for Leo, I was always invited back to the company Christmas party, and of course went back to see him many times just to visit.

On his last Christmas on earth, I was living in Lafayette and could not make it back to the party. A former fellow employee told me that after the party that afternoon as they were leaving, Leo stopped, looked off and said, “I guess Tom’s not going to make it this year.” It made me very sad.

When I received word that Leo had died, I came back to his funeral. With the exception of two, every person who had ever worked for Leo was there.

I remembered seeing Leo at noon Mass during the weekdays in Lent. I remembered his laugh, a hearty chuckle, and his expression: “Good morning, glory.” Often he would talk about his World War II days in Italy.

The night before Leo’s funeral Mass, I went back to the place where I had worked for five years during high school and college and walked around the buildings. They had a spray of purple carnations on the door and I sniffed the fragrance of each one.

I loved him. I miss him.

Leo will never be canonized, but he’s a saint all right. He was a decent and good man, a caring father and husband. He loved his neighbor and he loved God. He was unassuming and gentle, but there was no doubt about his ethical convictions. He was surely conservative, but ask anyone who knew him about his magnanimity.

I pray for my friend all the time. But on All Saints Day, when I think of all the people God has called into His kingdom, all the simple souls who have passed unheralded into glory, I will think of Leo. – T.R.

written by Thomas Russell
first published in the Lafayette Sunday Visitor on October 26th, 1986