Every Monday is our ministry day and three of us novices go to the AIDS hospice of the Missionaries of Charity in Pacifica to help out wherever we can. When the opportunity came up, I leapt at the chance to serve the patients there. A few years back I was blessed with a visit to their facility in Karachi, Pakistan and I could not believe how much love poured out onto the most destitute and cast-offs of society. The Sisters seem to know no bounds in their care of people, the persons of Christ.

When I arrived, reality hit me in the face like a splash of cold water. The Sisters handed us rags, brooms, and mops. Couldn’t we do something more in line with our gifts? After all, I did operate a company for 12 years. Apparently, not.

It’s funny, but the Missionaries of Charity have no sense of efficiency or organization. You’d think Mother Theresa was smarter than that, especially given the number of overlooked people. The available tools for getting even the simplest of tasks accomplished are often insufficient and worn out beyond use. It’s difficult for me given my business inclinations not to examine the situation, come up with an overall plan to improve operational procedures, and then execute it with practical precision. I thought to myself, I could get this place ship-shape in no time.

But then it dawned on me that the things that we do there, whether it’s cleaning the kitchens, washing the floors, providing handyman duties, or spending time with the patients, all address directly the importance and dignity of the human being. People are not numbers that are pushed around and tallied in an annual report at the end of a fiscal year. There are no shareholders, benefactors, or auditors to ensure that this year’s numbers are up over last year’s. Getting things done more quickly is a mindset of creating more spare time or increasing productivity—things that are unimportant and irrelevant to someone who will likely die within the coming days, weeks, or months. That we’re there has merit itself and the patients there know it. So I can hardly complain when I’m on my knees scrubbing the floor with rags and tattered mops that I would have thrown out months ago, or better yet—never purchased in the first place. It’s incredibly humbling.