Hari and I go way back. We were altar boys at San Carlos. There are more than a few stories to share; we’ll leave those for another time. I just hope none of you were in a car driving on Freemont Street in Monterey, California behind the church. If your windshield was ever baptized by a ripe fig courtesy of the tree outside the church’s sacristy, Hari and I apologize to you now. If any priests happen to read this entry, please consider giving us absolution!
All joking aside, this is a beautiful story so let’s get to it…
Hari channeled his beginnings of serving our Lord and took it to another level. He worked as a paramedic and firefighter. We can’t offer enough prayers for the men and women who serve our communities keeping us safe day in and day out.
Hari saw more than anyone should have to see or deal with. These events, along with some personal things created a perfect spiritual, emotional, and physical storm. Harry found himself carrying the cross of some of his personal choices while simultaneously facing the horrors of Post Traumatic Stress (PTSD) from one too many poignant professional experiences.
A minor infraction landed Hari in jail for three weeks. He was released on probation. The next part of this story is in Harry’s words:
“I was having a tough time on probation. My doctor prescribed the antidepressant methadone. The drug made me go lopsided. I was stopped by the police in Monterey. I had a knife on me and a backpack full of weed. I was in violation of my probation.
After thirty days in jail I went to my court date. The judge sentenced me to six months. I had to find myself. I was going through some pamphlets that were available in the dorm.
I started reading the prayers in the pamphlets. Through God’s power, grace and gift, He started assembling people to pray with me. At first I had four or five guys pray with me in the morning and the evening. These same guys were making picture frames and rosaries out of potato chip bags. I sat with them during the day cutting small pieces; cutting them the way they taught me. We strung them together with Saran wrap. We made crosses out of the potato chip bags. I decided to make a rosary.
Every morning and evening we said a rosary together. After six months our little pray group grew from 4-5 guys to 40-50. God made the group grow. Imagine all of us on our knees every day praying the rosary. You could feel the presence of the Holy Spirit! God’s blessing was upon me. God used my painful experience to help me grow closer in my faith by participating in morning and evening prayers.
I also went to bible study every Sunday in jail. I began to attract others to pray and worship. We used to save our bread from lunch to make a big spread after dinner and share a feast with the other inmates in God’s honor. Everyone chipping in potato chips, pickles, sausage, cheese, and bread all mixed up to make a SPREAD and share with those that had nothing to chip in.
One evening after I was out of jail, my daughter came to me. She was going through a rough time. She was sad because she didn’t have the friends she was hoping for. She was feeling empty and alone. I wanted her to have the rosary to protect her and know that she’s never alone. So, I gifted the rosary to her.”
I don’t know about you, but I’ll never look at bag of potato chips the same.
I’m not a 100% sure of the timing but somewhere in the midst of all of this I bumped into Hari’s father at Safeway. I hadn’t seen Mr. Frye in over thirty years. He took amazing care of us as altar boys.
I could see and feel the weight of something heavy and dark on his shoulders. Within a few minutes he shared how worried he was about Hari. We prayed together in the store and I assured Mr. Frye that I would continue to pray for Hari and their family.
Eventually Hari and I got back in touch. We began connecting and praying together as he shared bits and pieces of his story with me. For whatever battles and demons Hari has had to fight he exudes kindness, humility, and selflessness that can’t be missed. He is the loyal, strong brother in Christ that you want at your side.
Now here’s where the poetry of our Great God, through the agency of our Blessed Mother, comes full circle to do its Loving thing…
