Glimpses of Grandma

Hanging in there

In an ongoing effort to clean out, organize, and clean up our apartment, I dropped several donations off at various places today.  I started by dropping a load of things off at Goodwill.  I’ve made a number of trips over there and hope to make many more in the days and weeks to come.  It helps me to sort through things and part with them knowing that something I haven’t touched in months might be exactly what someone else is looking for and would use daily. 

    
After all, in some ways, I’m definitely my grandma’s girl.  She rarely tossed stuff out if it could be recycled or reused by her or by someone else.  I am absolutely certain she’s quite tickled that Kevin and I currently have hanging in our bathroom a turquoise (her favorite color) shower curtain that my grandma must have had for 30 some years.  When I found it and realized it had never been used and was still in its original box from a department store that went out of business awhile ago, I couldn’t bring myself to toss it, knowing my grandma would have wanted someone to use it. 

Re-Gifting         

I swung by the Pastoral Center to see my mom and gave her back a couple of the framed pieces of handmade artwork I’d done for her years ago.  I have a number of things back in my possession that I originally made, wrote, and gifted to different family members over the years.  I’m not sure how many of the items would ultimately have been trashed or donated when my sister and her husband bought a house, when my dad passed away, my youngest sister went off to college, my mom moved out of her house into an apartment, then my grandma passed away, but it was easier for me to box these things up and bring them to our place rather than wonder and worry if something I’d spent so much time and energy on would just end up in the garbage.

     
I’m not sure if it’s out of plain old nostalgia, sadness, regret, or hope that I hold onto gifts from me that were left behind.  I don’t know what would have become of the letters I wrote and gifts I made for my mom, dad, sisters, and/or grandparents.  My mom assures me that many of the things I’d made for her over the years she’d had no intention of getting rid of when she moved into her apartment.  I believe her, so when I unearth such things again, I offer them to her. 

Life-long Learning

I swung by school with a bag of assorted books and arts and craft supplies well before the insanity of after-school carpool began.  I always end up using a vast hodgepodge of materials from home and from school when I teach summer camps there, so some of the things I came across I figured they would make use of at school before I’d do something with them at home.  Others were books and things that had gotten grouped in with the children’s books I have, ones my mom kept from when we were little, in addition to some French ones and favorites I’ve added so I can share them with the kids at school and when I nanny.  I got a few minutes to catch up with the program director, who’s been a good friend and supervisor for the five years since we both started working there.  Even though I came in during the post-rest story-time, I still got a couple of spontaneous hugs from kids who remembered me.      

Good Food, Nice Weather, Many Thanks

Next, I stopped by Cook-Out for a grilled chicken sandwich, fries, and a Heath Toffee milkshake too thick to drink through a straw—good thing they included a spoon.  I drove to Little Sisters of the Poor, a stop I wasn’t really looking forward to, as I hadn’t been back there since going to collect my grandmother’s things after she passed this January.  It went fine, though. 

I sat in my car and ate my lunch, remembering one beautiful day when I’d picked up a chocolate shake and fries from Cook-Out to share with my grandma.  I’d brought her outside in her wheelchair over by the swing in front of the entrance walkway to the building and angled her so she could see the garden while we visited.  I’d gotten an extra cup so I could give her some of the milkshake, which I deftly spilled spots of on the swing and my pants.  (Getting spots on clothing while eating is another trait I picked up from my grandma, truth be told.)    

    
This afternoon, while eating, I thought about what my grandma would say on a day like today if she were sitting out there with me.  She’d make mention of the lovely garden and the beautiful colors all around.  She’d comment on the trees, the landscaping, and the gentle breeze.  She’d be grateful for a visitor, for time outside, for fun foods she can’t remember having tasted before…

    
When I finished eating, I took in the body lotions, a wide assortment of handmade jewelry, plastic organizers, and a large supply of beads to make more jewelry.  I left them with the receptionist, who I am certain recognized me.

    
I still have a number of things from my grandma’s, mom's, and my dad’s I’m not quite sure what I’m going to do with, yet.  They’re here with lots of memories I haven’t sorted through, but I’ll get around to them sometime, possibly soon.

Thank You, God, for a beautiful day, for the opportunity to share with others, to remember loved ones lost, to be thankful for little pleasures, and be reminded of the many ways that You are able to use what others cast aside to create a masterpiece of each of our lives.  Amen.            

Note: This post is linked to New Evangelist Blog's June Issue of Catholic Bloggers Best Posts from the month of May.

Serving Up On the Altar

     Those gathered for daily Mass this past Saturday morning, January 12, 2013, witnessed a beautiful sign of love and dedication to the Church in the chapel at Little Sisters of the Poor.  The priest who usually celebrates Mass there wasn’t well enough to do it, so the 93 year-old priest who typically concelebrates with him and gives out Communion while sitting in a chair on the altar was asked if he would be up to doing it with help.  Fr. Paul agreed, and our best friend and dearest brother in Christ John, was summoned to come up to assist him. 

     It was deeply moving to see a very elderly, devout priest sitting next to a young only just finished his first semester seminarian.  John helped him find the right prayers, consecration, and blessings for the Mass.  The lady sitting in front of Kevin and me said it was one of the most beautiful Masses she’d ever been to.  Kevin and I definitely agreed.

     At the conclusion, we clapped for Fr. Paul and thanked him for being willing to celebrate Mass for us when it took a good deal of effort for him to do so, even sitting down the whole time.  As he slowly made his way back down the aisle with his walker (which of course has the standard two yellow tennis balls), he said that we should be thanking John.

     Many people did come up to John after Mass to talk with him.  The woman sitting in front of us asked Kevin if John’s our brother, because she could tell we were proud of him.  My husband ultimately said yes, with a little bit of explanation.

     When he was home for Christmas break, John served at quite a few Masses, so we’d gotten used to seeing him up on the altar.  It hit home that’s where his ministry is going, and ours will continue to be, at least in part, to love and support him on the journey—a blessing we are grateful to have.

     It has always moved me deeply to see Fr. Paul up on the altar concelebrating Mass at the age of 93, bless his heart.  There was hardly a dry eye in the place seeing him sitting up there with John seated at his side, helping him each step of the way. 

     Lord, thank You for the many ways that You speak to us through different circumstances as well as the sacraments of daily living.  Amen.  

Grandma Turns 89: A Miracle & Cause for Celebration

Spending time with my grandma, who turned 89 on October 5, 2012, is a blessing for many reasons.  It has now been over sixteen years since my grandmother was diagnosed with an advanced stage of cancer (specifically multiple myeloma) and given under a year to live.  This faithful prayer warrior, lover of books, volunteer, caregiver…has proven doctors wrong over and over again.  Each time they would give her a gloomy prediction, she would be that much more diligent about eating healthy, getting exercise, and enjoying life. 

     
For years after she’d moved down here from Rochester, New York, she lived in her own apartment, drove, would walk an hour a day using two canes to make sure she got exercise, and had a busier social life than most people a third of her age. 
     
Hopefully, the doctors she’s had who predicted she didn’t have long on this earth have taken note that they were wrong by a long shot.  Not only did my grandmother far outlive any estimates they made when she was first diagnosed with cancer, but she also showed them that she wasn’t going to give up even when they suggested that’s what we do. 
     
Yesterday in the evening we gathered where my grandmother lives at St. Joseph’s Little Sisters of the Poor to celebrate her 89^th birthday with her.  My mom brought Chinese food from one of Gram’s favorite restaurants, my sister and her husband, and family friends joined us in the social room for a fun birthday celebration. 
     
I could tell after being there only a few minutes that my grandma was having a very limited memory day.  When we dished the food out, she asked what everything was, though we used to get food from that restaurant all the time.  My mom patiently told her what was on her plate each time she inquired.  Gram was delighted and kept saying how delicious it was. 
     
Throughout the course of the evening, our family, friends, and some of the Little Sisters sang Gram “Happy Birthday.”  In the lobby, we sang it once in English, then in French, our friends sang it to her in Arabic, and later the eight year old among us serenaded Gram with a most amusing rendition of the song, which it’s certainly just as well she couldn’t understand. 
     
After taking out the delicious raspberry chocolate cake with candles our friend brought and singing one more traditional “Happy Birthday,” we all shared the decadent dessert.  (My husband said that the two of us would split a piece which is why the leftover cake in the fridge belongs to meJ.)  The eight-year-old girl asked to sing another birthday song, so everyone quieted down and let her have the floor.  Many of you who have children, work with them, or can remember being one yourself, probably are familiar with the lyrics to this less mainstream except with children version of birthday greetings.
     
Once she had everyone’s attention, the eight year old began: 

“Happy Birthday to you!  Happy Birthday to you! 

You look like a monkey, and you smell like one too!
Happy Birthday to you!  Happy Birthday to you! 
You look like a zebra, and you smell like one, too!”

We were all laughing hysterically that the cute little girl was so eager to share this song that she didn’t see anything wrong with.  Gram fortunately hadn’t been able to hear the words and might not have understood their implications if she had.  The girl’s poor mother put her face in her hands and shook her head, not quite sure what to say.  My mom assured her it was okay.  Clearly it wasn’t done maliciously or to hurt anyone’s feelings, which made it really funny and completely innocent. 

     
It was wonderful to see my grandmother so smitten with everything: her company, the food she thought she’d never eaten before in her life, the delicious dessert, the fresh flowers…all of it.  Yet again, she proved to be a wonderful example of contentment and appreciation, even if she couldn’t quite recognize or recall the foods on her plate or the names of all of the people gathered around her for the party.

Heaven's Homecoming

     Heaven’s Homecoming is a beautiful look at the many admirable qualities of the elderly faithful and their deep understanding of love, heaven, prayer, and the important role of the priest during their lives and certainly at the moment of their deaths.  Father McKay, who served as the priest at Holy Family Home for 18 years, shares “eulogistic stories” of the aged in his care.  Under the patronage of Saint Jeanne Jugan and her Little Sisters of the Poor, these residents show their humble faith, wonderful humor, and determination to reach their final destination of heaven. 

     All names in the book have been changed to respect the privacy of the residents, but their precious faith, devout prayer practices, hilarious interactions, and prophetic dreams are vibrantly portrayed.  The string throughout the book is the priest’s relationship with each of these individuals, and how each one of them helps him come a step closer to overcoming his fear of death and dying. 
       When my mom handed me the book to read and I scanned the back, I knew I’d read it eventually, but I didn’t put it at the top of my list.  I was expecting that it would be sort of dry, probably not very cohesive, and published more because it is about the residents at a home with the same patroness and religious caregivers as Little Sisters of the Poor than due to its literary prowess or entertainment value.  
     I’m pleasantly surprised at how well this was written.  I absolutely loved these stories, and as is often the case with my favorite funny or moving passages, I just had to share them aloud with my nearest and dearest.  We laughed and cried together.  Even my grandmother, a resident in her upper 80s at the local Little Sisters of the Poor home, chuckled when I read her a few of the stories from it.
     There’s no ISBN, no website, or even a publisher listed on the book, so I’m not quite sure of the best way to get your own copy of Heaven’s Homecoming other than from the Little Sisters of the Poor home for the elderly nearest you, but you can get the Kindle version on Amazon here.