Other than Bono and Gordon Brown - both self-proclaimed and who therefore don't count - there aren't too many living saints walking our planet at the present time. But there is one.
The person I speak of is Anne Crory who, now in her 80s, was my mum's health visitor for the first two years of my life.
I wasn't a very well baby. Indeed, I spent the first couple of months cooped up in a special unit in the Royal Belfast Hospital for Sick Children and wasn't expected to make it out at all. And, when I did, I wasn't expected to last too long.
But thanks to a nice English professor who flew over to test out his new wonder drugs on me, several highly skilled doctors, my mother's perseverance and a wonderful lady called Nurse Crory, I made it through.
She was regular visitor to our house for those first two years, even whilst I was in hospital. And the support she gave to my mother and I was priceless. Indeed, such was her level of inspiration that, shortly after I got better, my mum decided to follow her into the nursing profession herself and spent a career there.
The two of them have kept in touch throughout the last almost 37 years. And when my mum mentioned last week that it might be a nice idea to call in to see the great lady once again, there was no question of me not doing it.
And not only did I get to see her again, but I got to introduce her to my son.
I have to say, it was an incredibly proud moment for me, in particular when, after giving Jamie the once over, she felt the need to offer her professional verdict: "That is definitely a happy baby!" Wonderful.
My mum has rightly never let me forget what Nurse Crory did for the two of us. And, after last Friday morning, I can now look forward to telling Jamie that he too was fortunate to receive her saintly blessing.
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