Joe, Phyllis, & Me.

There was a time in my life when I spent more time running to catch flights, waiting in lobbies, sitting by walls to charge dying phones in airports than anything else. There was a time when I felt like my life was about an endless discovery of myself and the future that awaited me until one day, one of life’s hang-ups made me pause and introduced me to Joe and Phyllis Moreno.

Our story is one I want to tell over and over again. Ours is the friendship that surpassed time and space.

It all started like any other day: Another trip in the books, another Thanksgiving meal away from my family. I woke up cold and amazed at how I managed to keep my socks on through the night. I had an early flight to Oakland the day before, and I had to be up before 7 AM to make it on time for boarding. However, the lovely iPhone chime woke me up before my alarm to notify me of a delay in my flight. I smiled mischievously only because I knew I could sleep for another hour.

So sleep I did.

Exactly as I predicted, I made it just in time for boarding.  By just in time, I mean I was out of breath running to my gate because I had five minutes left till take-off. But upon reaching my gate, I noticed that no one was in line to board. I checked the board for any updates, and lo and behold, my flight was delayed for another hour. Since I was late, there were no seats available. I walked around until I found myself comfortable standing next to an elderly couple. I chose that spot only because it melted my heart the way they looked at each other and held each other so closely despite being in clunky wheelchairs. They moved so slowly. They were so delicate, and they were so aware of it. They were gentle with one another. Patient. Unlike me.

For an impatient person, experiencing delays and hang-ups in plans that have been made is never much of a source of inspiration or life-changing paradigm shifts. 

The woman named Phyllis rolled her wheelchair out to go use the restroom. After she left, Joe, the old gentleman, noticed me and struck up a conversation. He asked me if I was on the same flight and asked for confirmation if our flight indeed was delayed. I joked in return by saying that I thought I was actually going to be late. He didn't think it was funny though. Yikes. Old people to Millennial lecture, I thought.
Joe, in a grandfatherly fashion, shared about the time he had to meet his superiors in a remote area during the time he worked for a secret department of the government. 

Like I said, that was only the beginning. For the next 10 minutes, Joe would learn that I am a Full-time Pastoral Worker – a missionary for the Catholic family ministry of the Couples for Christ Foundation for Family and Life. In that amount of time, he would discover that I graduated with a Theology degree from the University of Dallas and that I ultimately want to be a Theology teacher. He watched me tell my story and shared with me that he, too, is Catholic. Just as he shared this, his lovely wife St. Phyllis, he calls her, was wheeling herself back next to him. It just wasn't close enough for Joe's standards, so I pushed her closer.

He introduced Phyllis in the greatest and most romantic way possible: "This woman right here. She is the most wonderful person I know. She's fat. Full of wrinkles. Never wears make-up and everybody loves her." 

He began to share stories of his first and last day as an altar boy: He got fired for blowing his nose in a handkerchief. He also told me of the time that he accidentally used cleanser to clean his pastor's truck; he ended up wiping off the paint of the entire truck leaving the once powder blue pick-up to a now reddish piece of metal. I was smiling from ear to ear, laughing at his stories, and answering his questions for me. He inquired about a Prince Charming while winking so adorably in ways only goofy grandparents can and asked why I didn't just become a nunny bunny after college because in all seriousness, he sees there might be a call (Joe also attended Catholic schools his whole life, and said that that is what they called the nuns back then). He then seriously asked why I decided to be a missionary at this age.

I told him I wanted to be a teacher ultimately, but I didn't feel that I knew much of the world out there, yet. I wanted to get to know myself better. Find out who I am by learning how to lose myself in service of others. Find out who God is calling me to be in this world. This is then when Miss Phyllis motions me to stand next to her because she wanted to share a story with me.


"Come here dear. I want to tell you of a time when I prayed before God in the chapel as a young girl... I remember kneeling before the altar and praying, 'Lord, I just love you! I just want to be with you. Who do you want me to be? Guide me to where you want me to go.'”And I swear to you, at that moment, a beam of light appeared out of nowhere and was shining down on me." 

That burst of laughter was to be contrasted by the stories that followed. They were stories of the suffering they both had to endure in their youth: The wars, and the death of their first spouses. Phyllis was homeless at the age of 11. She was married at 18, and by the time she was 24 years old, she already had four sons. Just before meeting Joe, her husband had left her to remarry, only to pass away unexpectedly. Joe, too, lost his wife. I will never stop hearing his quivering voice in my memories:
I didn't know what to say and they understood. 

That's when I became really speechless. She spoke to me as if she had known me for years. As if she had witnessed me grow up to be the person I am today.

She and Joe saved me the aisle seat of the first row of the plane so that Phyllis and I could talk. She listened to my 24-year-old stories, struggles, and questions about life. The whole time on the plane, Joe interrupted here and there, acting as her hype man of some sort. He made sure I believed that every word coming out of her mouth was a pearl of great price. With every story I shared, she offered me wisdom dripping with so much faith, hope, and love in return. Then, somewhere 40,000 feet above the middle of nowhere in California, she asked if we could pray together. She offered up my heart and asked God to bless it and to guide it as he continues to do with her. Those two hours spent with Joe and Phyllis felt like catching up with old and familiar friends instead of meeting new ones.

As the plane was descending, Joe taught me the difference between IFR (Instrument Flight Rules) and VFR (Visual Flight Rules). He received his MSME from LMU; he is filled with information I'll never use but will make me really cool at parties. 

Sincere and genuine love for another, not time, is what creates for strong bonds. The commitment to will the highest good of another. The bravery to be vulnerable with another. These are the building blocks of eternal and unconditional love. Of true love. The only kind there is.

In a world where marriage is feared, where most movies and secular media show that much of romance is lost in the struggles of marriage, Joe and Phyllis's bond is among the shining examples of God's love manifested through the sacrament of marriage. They endured the trials and tribulations of their lives. It wasn't always easy, but because they persevered, they are now like gold that has been tested in the Refiner's fire. The love that they found on earth will see them through eternity. It is the kind of love that grows securely in a sacramental marriage. The brave, crazy, gentle kind of love destined for every human person.

We exchanged contact information, so that we could keep in touch. I was the first off the plane (an experience I don't think I'll ever have again, so thank you Joe & Phyllis!) I hugged them and kissed their wrinkly cheeks a see-you-later and looked at them with a I-might-see-you-never-again. I looked around me and saw that everyone had been listening and watching our friendship go from nothing to something so deep and meaningful from the gate to our seats on the plane. I knew because everyone gave this kind of smile that I am still trying to describe in my mind. They just know that Joe, Phyllis, and I experienced something beyond what our human senses can grasp.

To this day, words fail to encapsulate just how much that day has changed my life, yet I don't mind. That's a mystery of life that reminds me of how real God is. How real His providence is. These things don’t just happen, but oftentimes, we refuse to be in the delays, the hang-ups in life. We would rather distract ourselves than be in the ache of waiting. In the ache of sacrificing the good for something greater. Had I chosen to go through my Instagram feed or my Facebook timeline, I would have numbed my brain and put my soul to sleep just to avoid boredom. I would have missed precious time of finding something within myself through the eyes of loving strangers. In choosing to be in the presence of Joe and Phyllis, through the lives of two individuals, I traveled through time, gained wisdom for the future, and learned how to be in the present.

Joe and Phyllis extended their hard-earned and lifelong bravery and virtues with a girl looking to find herself, so I may be able to trust that no matter what trials may come in my life, God will always provide me with the grace to endure, and that He never stops working for me, in me, and through me. 

Most people would say that God sent me angels that day, but what’s so wrong about God sending good ol’ human beings?