I am a saint. Or at least I will be once I’m canonized. The
Catholic Church does not, per se, owe this to me–my canonization,
that is–but it would certainly be a nice gesture from it to me. I
know what you are thinking, and no, I’m not crazy–well, not for
thinking that I’m a saint, anyhow.

How can I be a saint? Don’t you have to be dead to be canonized?
Well, I suppose that’s usually how it works, but let’s consider the
fact that our current pope, John Paul II, has canonized more saints
during his “enlightened rule” over the Church than all of the
previous pope’s combined. I mean, heck, if all those other guys and
gals can be canonized, so can I! Of course, there are a few little
requirements that you must have accomplished before you can be
considered for this great title, and I believe I have succeeded in
most areas necessary.

Miracles. A saint must perform at least three miracles to be
deemed a “saint,” so what have I done? Well, nothing directly, but
oh-so-many things in an indirect, day-to-day fashion.

The first miracle is not something that happens every day–at
least not to the same person–and is the start of a beautiful
thing. That first occurrence is my birth. No, I was not the
Immaculate Conception; and no, I was not set on my parents’
doorstep by God’s own hand, but every birth is a miracle and a
blessing. Kill two birds, use one stone; proof that God thinks
ahead.

The second miracle, which I have personally mastered, is one
that took years to formulate and perfect. How can a miracle take
years to occur? Don’t ask me, I’m not God, just a lowly saint. The
second miracle, surviving adolescence, is a trying and difficult
experience to behold. The primordial battle between the barbaric
forces of Boy and Man, the struggle within me–and all humans
(Girl/Woman, of course)–to reach Adulthood. To survive the ravages
of such a battle is truly a miracle, and so I am two for two, how
about you? Keeping up?

Finally we come to the third miracle. Naturally, the third
miracle is the most complex and difficult to see as a miracle.
Finding that life is indeed worth living is a harrowing and
fantastical adventure in self-exploration. With the corruption and
ultimate evil in the world, how can one person change the fate of a
group of people? So much death and hate exists on this planet that
one can easily slip into a depressed attitude of, “Life is
terrible, I can’t change a thing, I want to end my misery now.” To
persevere through such absolute turmoil is truly a miracle, and yet
again, a blessing. (That’s four birds total and only two stones.
Dang, He’s good.)

So there it is; three miracles. I should be a saint. I deserve
it; I have suffered and been part of miracles and I am still here
today, living proof. But wait, everyone of legal age has had those
miraculous experiences in their lives, so then one must conclude
that everyone should be canonized? Surely there is a way to
distinguish the saints from the sinners (ordinary people like you,
but not me–I’m a saint), and sure enough, there is! Good
works.

Mother Teresa once said that “if you do good, people will accuse
you of selfish ulterior motives. Do good anyway.” And so I do. I
say my daily prayers and help the elderly women across the street.
I work with children and have empathy for those less fortunate than
myself. I’ve humbled myself before a homeless beggar and before a
high priest. I do good works.

Have I completely dedicated my life to God in order to do these
good works? No, not particularly. Our lives are dedicated to God
whether we wish them to be. We are His Creation, He is our creator,
we are an entity–ever so far removed–of God. Good works. Not just
feeding the hungry, but helping a neighbor shovel the drive,
lending a pencil to a classmate in need. Good works.

I shall continue my quest for good works and, what the heck, a
few more miracles couldn’t hurt. But I have accomplished all of the
requirements (you may think you have, too) and I’m expecting my
canonization announcement from the Pope sometime this week. I
figure it will be either my canonization announcement or my
excommunication. Either way, deep down inside, I know one
inalienable truth: I am a saint and so are you.

Andrew Emmerich is a freshman studying English.