By Father Jason Cargo
Special to The Texas Catholic
God came to my house today.
Those were the words spoken by a young boy named Cesar as he looked at me. I did not hear them myself; another missionary later shared them with me. Cesar, perhaps 10 years old, has cerebral palsy. He comes from a poor yet deeply loving family living in the heart of Mexico.
Their home is simple, but beautiful in its dignity. Hanging on the walls were a crucifix and an image of the Last Supper. Around him were siblings, cousins, and extended family members who took turns helping care for him each day. They gave him assistance, and he gave them some things just as important: companionship, joy, and smiles.
And those smiles — Cesar radiated light. His presence filled the room with warmth. When his mother told us about his upcoming first Communion, a huge grin spread across his face. I could not help but laugh and give him a high five.
I was there with members of my parish, St. Mark the Evangelist Catholic Parish, along with representatives from the wheelchair mission. We had come to bring Cesar a special gift: a wheelchair. We introduced ourselves, prayed with the family, and placed him into this gift.
But what we truly hoped to give was something deeper. Through our presence and love, we wanted to share the hope that faith brings. And in the midst of all the excitement — meeting new people and receiving his wheelchair — Cesar said, “God came to my house today.”
As a priest, I am accustomed to being noticed when I walk around in my clerics. During this wheelchair mission, many people at CRIT approached me asking for blessings. They were searching for healing and strength for their children.
The children who come to CRIT face severe developmental challenges. Some were born with debilitating disorders; others are recovering from tragic accidents. Yet, every family arrives searching for hope.
As they enter the building, they are welcomed by a compassionate staff members who guide them through appointments and therapies. But they also encounter something more: a eucharistic chapel with a large statue of the risen Jesus. The message is unmistakable.
Amid suffering, they are not alone. God is with them as they love and care for their beautiful children.
That is where I found myself in the morning before visiting Cesar.
I had just finished celebrating Mass when people began crowding into the doorway of the chapel simply to be near a priest. One after another, parents brought forward their children for blessings. I prayed over so many little ones, begging God to pour out his healing grace upon them. I hoped that in those shared moments of faith, God would move powerfully and that miracles might happen.
Whether a miracle occurred is not for me to know, but I know this: God was there.
After Mass, while speaking with another missionary, a little girl approached with her grandmother. She could not have been more than four years old. She looked at me with longing eyes. I have come to recognize those eyes, even in someone so young. They were eyes searching for the touch of God.
She slowly made the sign of the cross with her tiny hands. I bent down, traced the sign of the cross gently upon her forehead, and prayed a blessing over her. More than anything, I wanted her to know that God was with her.
Later that day, when the missionary told me what Cesar had said, a wave of emotion rushed through me, and tears filled my eyes. In that moment, I realized again how deeply people need to know they are not alone —that God is truly with them.
Because God has called me to be a priest, I often become, in my own humble humanity, an outward sign of that presence.
I have thought often about Cesar’s words.
Yes, God came to his house that day through the love of missionaries and through my humble, ordained hands.
But what I saw in Cesar’s eyes — in the faces of his mother, his sisters, his uncle, and his cousins — was something even greater: God was already there.
And that day, in that little house in Mexico, I met him.
Father Jason Cargo is the pastor of St. Mark the Evangelist Catholic Parish in Plano.
Cutline for featured image: Oscar Sánchez, center, Grand Knight of Santa María Council 6065 of the Knights of Columbus, walks with his wife, Ana Sánchez, and Father Jason Cargo while pushing Omar’s new wheelchair on May 13 in Puebla, Mexico. (RODRIGO EPSTEIN/Courtesy of American Wheelchair Mission)
