From a Selfie to a Prayer

Recalling a Joyful Moment with Pope Francis

Some years ago, in fact, it was the fall of 2015, I found myself scrambling to get a religious visa in order to travel to Cuba. It was an extraordinary intersection of a number of meaningful moments in my life. First, it marked my return to the country of my birth, almost a week to the day, 50 years prior, that I left Cuba with my mother. I was preparing for the launch of my first book, and my uncle, who is a bishop in Cuba, invited the family to join him as he received Pope Francis on his apostolic visit to the island. The Pope was on his way to the World Meeting of Families in the U.S., which I was planning to attend, but I changed my plans to jump on this opportunity for what turned out to be a transformative pilgrimage and reconnection to my family still in Cuba.

I’ve written about the experience in several places, but I want to share with you something I rarely talk about: gazing into Pope Francis’ eyes.

Pope Francis landed in Havana and made his way across the country to the diocese of Holguin, where the devotion to Our Lady of Charity started with the discovery of a miraculous statue of the Blessed Mother, and then was ending his trip in Santiago de Cuba, at the National Basilica of Our Lady of Charity of El Cobre for a Mass and his departure for the United States.

In Holguin, he celebrated a huge public Massm and then met with my uncle, the Bishop, and other priests for lunch and rest before the next leg of his journey. I joined my aunts, uncles, and my mother in the sitting room off the chancery dining room for an opportunity to have an private meeting with Pope Francis. It was a beautiful moment for my uncle, who served with the Pope on regional committees when he was Archbishop. It was a moment of intimate sharing between friends, shepherds and flock, and of course, Pope and Bishop.

It was both formal, with many introductions and protocol, and intimate and familial. At one point, at the urging of my children, I was emboldened to ask Pope Francis if he would allow me to take a selfie. That is perhaps one of the most transformative moments in my life as a Catholic. I had intended to kiss his ring, in awe of the Apostolic Succession and the rich symbolism of the Fisherman’s Ring. Instead, I boldly asked for a picture. He was holding my hand warmly in both of his as we spoke about my husband and children, and my career as teacher and newly minted author.

The tenderness with which he held my gaze was supernatural. I knew he was the Pope, but in that moment, as I asked for the selfie, it was as if I was looking into the eyes of my heavenly Father, lovingly indulging a silly request. It passed quickly. He said yes. I snapped not one, but two because the flash blinded us, and suddenly the press corps descended into the room when they heard the head of protocol call out “No selfies!”

Too late! I got the picture. His body guard took my phone from me and I was sure it was confiscated to delete the photo, but instead, he took pictures of our meeting for me. And I made the L’Osservatore Romano! My mom has the picture they snapped of our selfie!

So now, as we pray for Pope Francis, I don’t want to eulogize him in anticipation of what will be some day, but rather, share a lovely memory of his kindness and gentleness. May the Divine Physician grant him strength and healing, and may the Blessed Mother ease his discomfort, wrapping him in her tender care. Amen.