Named Angel, Sister, and Mother. Her names are many. The wishes come from those in need, always. Terrified soldiers, wounded police officers, children walking home alone. She is a guide, an arm to lean on, a warm voice that comforts. She gives aid to those that call on her. The wounded lie in bed and rest better with her watching over. She was there, in the trenches during the first World War. She walked dunes in the middle east during the Persian gulf war. She rode in helicopters with draftees in Vietnam. Saw the fire, the blood, the death. Heard the terror, the screams, the pain.
When a paramedic, his first day on the job, sees blood and gore splashed across a shattered windshield, hood, and road she is there to give him aid. She steadies the hand of the nervous doctor removing the tumor from the patient. She calms the firefighter, thrown from a building by a pocket of exploding oxygen.
She is Mercy, she is Kindness, she is Love. Her names are many. The cries for her come from those unable to defend themselves. When a child is bullied, she gives him strength to fight back. When a woman is stalked down a dark road by a slow moving car, its light off, the hint of a laugh rolling out an open window, she is there to help. She guides the soldier’s aim to kill the driver of a car loaded with explosives headed for a crowded market street. She gives eases the pain a father feels when he loses his child to a drive-by shooting.
When a man, held captive for speaking against his country, cries in a windowless cell of cold cement she soothes his mind. She comforts the wife of the Navy SEAL sent on a mission he can tell her nothing about.
She is the saint of protection, compassion, and righteous judgement.