My Grandmother's Faith

My Grandmother was put in Hospice care this week, and was taken off all medications except those that will help keep her comfortable.  Saying my goodbyes to her has been so very bittersweet.  I know she is so ready for the joy that awaits her.  But I will miss her.  We share a similar understanding of the faith that has deepened our bond over the years.

My Grandma, Mom, and children at Nicholas' Baptism last year.

There was no one specific thing about her faith that spoke to me most.  I always saw her go to Mass on Sunday (taking me with her, if I was at her house).  She spoke openly about her faith, often to the derision of others.  She says her faith has grown as she has aged; I have no doubt it has, but to me, something about her faith always seemed real.  She is no theologian, but I believe Jesus is her friend.  Her closest friend.  Listening to her talk over the past week has only strengthened that belief in my heart.

I know my Grandma isn't perfect.  (Neither am I, so I'm OK with that!)  It's the depth of her faith, and its childlike simplicity, that impresses me.  She has made mistakes, but she has clung to Jesus -- her best friend -- for as long as I have known her.  I am amazed at the ways in which He has always provided for her needs.

My Grandma grew up during the Depression, and her family did not have great financial resources when she was young.  One of her sisters died from a burst appendix because they couldn't afford a doctor.  When my Grandmother had TB, they finally sent her to an aunt's farm for a summer, where the fresh air and food helped her regain her strength.  She also grew a lot that summer -- by the time she went home she couldn't even attend church, because none of her clothes or shoes fit properly!

She lied about her age in order to join nursing school at 16.  After graduation, but before being sent overseas as an Army nurse, she and some friends drove across the country in a pink convertible.  I love that image!

The first time my Grandma fell in love overseas, the young man died in the war. The next time she fell in love, it was with my Grandfather.  He almost died as well.  His plane was shot down, and everyone was going to jump out and use their parachutes.  Except his had a hole -- so everyone stayed with the plane to attempt to land it, and to await their fate with him.  They all survived.  He gave her the white silk parachute to make her wedding dress.  My cousin has a newspaper article that recounts the accuracy of this beloved family tale.

My Grandpa died nearly 30 years ago.  That is such a long time to live without your spouse!  During that time, she has faced some heartbreaks I can't imagine facing alone.  But I guess she wasn't alone.  Her Friend was always at her side.  This is so encouraging to me.

Nicholas means so much to my Grandma.  She finds
great joy in sharing in a new baby's life.

About two years ago, she lost the ability to walk.  Oh, how she struggled at that time!  There is no doubt that a battle has been waged for her soul.  It was painful for me to see the one person I have always seen trust in God have that trust so greatly challenged.  Challenged, but not broken.  Prayer, prayer, prayer has been her constant companion through all of the letting go she has had to endure.  Through all of the loneliness she has had to endure.  And the fact that she was not merely able to blithely let go as if her mobility and freedom meant nothing -- the fact that it was a struggle -- only adds to my admiration of what it means to see how beautifully she has persevered and grown in her deep, rich faith.

God granted me a great grace yesterday.  I was able to be at my Grandmother's side as she received her Last Rites.  She gave her confession in private, then we joined her.  The priest prayed, then made the Sign of the Cross on her forehead, and on the palms of her hands.  My Grandmother looked at her hands, and raised them, slowly, to her lips, one at a time, to kiss the cross he had just inscribed there.

To kiss the cross.

It was almost as though I could see the holes in Jesus' hands.  The suffering, the loneliness -- all embraced with Love.  And here was my frail Grandmother, suffering, lonely, and embracing the Lord's will with a kiss.

I pray this image, and the lesson it carries, never leave my heart -- just like the woman who imparted them.

Visiting my Grandma on her 93rd birthday in August.