Two days ago, May 1(MAY DAY), the day of my birth, unfolded not as a celebration in the usual sense, but as a deeply reflective and spiritual journey.
By Samuel Kofi Woods, contributing writer
MAY DAY, as it is known, is the day of the workers’ revolution. “WORKERS OF THE WORLD UNITE!!!!!!. And so the marches and rallies echo around the world; the recurring echoes of the proletariat revolution and workers’ solidarity.
In Washington, D.C., after months of the strain of public service left me quite unwell, I decided to spend the day quietly, rest, and focus on prayer, healing, and renewal.
After a bit of research to retrace a path I had once traveled- and with the help of my Friend, James Butty, the renowned Liberian VOA Broadcaster- I began my morning with the 8 am Mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. While fasting, I intentionally returned to places that once held my story during a season of exile, uncertainty, and survival.
My dear friend, James Butty, graciously offered to drop me off for mass and to accompany me to other places later. Together, we revisited institutions and communities that had shaped my path—places of learning, advocacy, and refuge.
But it was our visit to the Society of African Missions (SMA) House in Takoma Park that transformed the day into something extraordinary.
The SMA House is more than just a building—it is a living testimony of compassion, sacrifice, and missionary service. For decades, the Society of African Missions, a Catholic missionary congregation founded in the 19th century, has devoted itself to evangelization, education, healthcare, and human development across Africa, including Liberia. Their work helped lay the foundation of the Catholic Church in many parts of West Africa, offering not only spiritual guidance but also schools, clinics, and a moral voice during times of conflict and hardship.
That house stood as a sanctuary. It welcomed all—students, refugees, clergy, and strangers alike. It was a place where no one asked questions before offering a meal, a bed, or a listening ear. It was a community built on faith, dignity, and solidarity. During my own difficult period, it became home—a place of healing, counsel, and quiet hope when the future seemed uncertain.
Although I had been there several times before, returning with James after a few years filled me with deep emotions. The building had been renovated, changed in appearance—but its spirit remained alive in memory.
As we climbed the stairs, we stood at the door and knocked. We recalled moments of struggle and resilience, we were reminded of the countless lives that had passed through that space—lives transformed by simple acts of kindness and unwavering faith.
By what I can only describe as divine providence, we encountered the current owner of the house, an Ethiopian lady named Liyu. As I shared its history—its role in sheltering the weary, nurturing faith, and shaping destinies—she listened with deep interest and reverence. In that exchange, something remarkable happened.
She told me how she acquired the house without knowing this part of its history and that she, too, was a Christian.
We asked her permission to take photos, and she agreed. While taking photos, she narrated how she found a cross while cleaning the house, and we asked her to take a picture with the cross. She was reluctant and informed me that the cross had been broken by her nephew. I told her that it didn’t matter because it was part of my story. Repairing the crucifix and its symbolism would be a separate narrative of this experience.
I started taking photos with the cross, and she offered me the cross she had found in the house.
I suddenly told her, “Do you know what day this is for me? It is my birthday. Thanks for the best gift today.
Though broken, it was whole to me. It was a symbol of sacrifice, endurance, redemption, and grace. A reminder of the broken body of Christ on the cross that we celebrate every Mass in the Eucharist (The Holy Communion). It became a sacred link between my past and my present. A reminder that even in brokenness, there is purpose, and in every journey, restoration awaits.
And then it dawned on me: this was my birthday!!!
What began as a quiet day of reflection, while managing my health and seeking rest, became a profound spiritual encounter—a gift not planned, not expected, but deeply meaningful. A moment of reconciliation with the past and a renewed sense of purpose for the future.
MAY DAY, SAMUEL & THE CRUCIFIX!
In this, I pledge to remain committed to my passion, conviction, and ideals!
And through it all, I received your messages.
To my dear friends, relatives, and well-wishers: thank you for your prayers, your calls, your kind words, and your love. Even in my quiet and reflective state, I felt surrounded by your presence. You made the day richer, fuller, and more joyful.
I carry your kindness with me, just as I now carry this cross—a symbol of faith, resilience, and the enduring power of grace.
With heartfelt Gratitude and Love,
Thank you all, and may God bless you abundantly.
Samuel Kofi Woods, II
