Too much to say here in one post, so I'll offer it in a series.
Everyday, I thank God for blessing me with my faith. Without it, I don't know where I would be, except I know my life would be radically different. Likely, Phoebe would have been my only daughter ...and likely I would have one grown son, a demanding yet "successful" career, far far more money and the accoutrements that would scream to the world that I had indeed "made it." I will never know a different script, so truly it is all speculation ...but I do know where I had set my eyes and what I deemed worthy. At some point, God gently shifted my gaze to the "finer things in life" ...that being Him, my creator. And so a journey that began from the moment of my creation was tuned, adjusted with a little rewiring ...and has led me to strive for living an authentically Catholic life in a time and place that ...when we are all honest we can admit ....truly, not only rejects, but mocks the treasures God so generously offers to us.
From my earliest days I remember waking from my crib, the mid afternoon sun streamed through the windows and I can still remember pulling myself up and looking at my mother across the room. She had probably watched me stir for a few moments until I stood. I remember doing that too when my babies napped ...waiting and watching them, before the full engine turned on ....just enjoying the scrunched faces as eyes fluttered. My mother sat there with a full belly, my brother Michael ready to join us, making us five ...in five years. This earliest memory remembers the rosary in my mother's hands ...so young and yet here are the first treasures of being witnessed to ....by my own mother.
Each night we would all pray ...the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Infant Jesus Prayer, act of contrition, the God bless ...and we went down the list. Finally, we would pray the special intentions. When I was five we added the "special intention of Sr. Joan Marie." I still find myself praying that ...though I am sure Sr. Joan Marie is long gone, prayers are never wasted. I spent a lot of time as a child trying to establish what, in-fact, this special intention was. Even now, I wander there on occasion.
The devotions ...the rosary, evening prayer, grace ...these are only some of the devotions I was fortunate enough to have passed on to me by my mother. I am a child of the sixties and the seventies. Most of us will admit these were times of chaos, social upheaval, challenging cultural norms ...and on and on. Long held beliefs were challenged ...and for many, confusion set in. As a child, you aren't necessarily aware when you are confused ....you are just confused. Educated by the Sisters of Divine Providence from first through eighth grade I learned songs like "The Man from Galilee", "Kumbayah" (I'm sorry, I never learned to spell that correctly!) ...but I did not learn the solid devotions. I learned a lot of loose, "hey how 'ya feeling about that Jesus guy" type stuff. I remember being confused as nun after nun would announce on Friday that on Monday they would no longer wear a veil. While I wanted to see what kind of hair they actually had ...I was disappointed that the mystery would no longer be. By the time most of them had tossed the veils, we started seeing crocheted vests in all sorts of colors ...mostly orange and green. I spent much of math class studying the pattern. Once the crocheted vests took hold, we started hearing that sister so and so was leaving. Not just leaving, she was taking an apartment in Charlestown and a job at a factory. This was all very confusing to me. "But I thought they were married to God, you can't just leave ...can you?" I wondered in my little brain. One sister, Sister Paraclete was our principal. She was very stern, but very very kind. She always wore her veil. I loved her ...because to me, she was steady, stable ...solid. I knew she was a nun ...and I knew she was not going to leave God. At the age of nine, I needed to know people who weren't going to leave God ...even when it got tough. Sr. Paraclete died when I was in fifth grade. I remember my mother telling me and being very, very sad.
Still, at home, we said our night prayers and I would find my mother in the living room later, quietly praying her Rosary. This simple, yet solid, devotional witness ...literally saved my life. And while my "Catholic education" continued ...my understanding and exposure to the truth of our faith lessened.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
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