Easter Sunday

I get my faith from my mother and my grandmother. My grandmother took my sister and me to Church on Sundays and to Confession at regular intervals. The rules and protocol of the Church were very important to her, but you could sense her strong faith in the way she prayed with her eyes closed and her lips just barely moving as she bowed her head reverently. Later on, after my grandmother died, my mother influenced my beliefs.

My mother did not care very much for the rules and protocol of the Church. She believed in what she had been taught from the Baltimore catechism. She believed in the Communion of Saints, in the Trinity, and the blessedness of the Virgin Mary. She prayed often and for just about everyone. I would ask her to pray for people, and months later, she would ask about this or that person and tell me that she was still praying for him/her. Her faith was strong and she worried about the grey area between presumption and despair. I owe a lot of my adult faith to her.

When my mother lay dying in the hospital, all of the beliefs which had informed the person I was seemed trite and transparent. I had believed that suffering brought you closer to the grace of God, but watching my mother suffer, I questioned whether that was too dear a price to be paid. We are meant to believe that God loves us as His children, but in order to give us His grace, we have to suffer. I had the thought, "Who needs it?" As I watched my mother leave me behind, I really thought that she would be taking my faith with her. That hasn't been the case.

My faith has remained steadfast. I don't understand the connection between God's love and suffering and may never. But I believe that God, seeing my mother suffer the way she did, and seeing that, even through her suffering, she wanted to receive the Holy Eucharist and the forgiveness of Penance, was moved and His compassion gave her peace and solace and a place with Him in heaven. I believe that in the core of my being.

I have suffered greatly these past three months. I miss my mother so desperately that it hurts in every part of my body. But I feel genuine comfort from the fact that my mother was a good person and a brilliant person and despite some pretty heavy burdens through her life, she continued to believe in God. I am comforted knowing that her reward is to look upon the face of God in the presence of the angels, saints and her beloved family.

It is Easter. We are taught that it is the most glorious of our religious holidays. It is the fulfillment of God's promise. We celebrate life on this day which falls in the Spring. We are meant to look forward to our Eternal life with God. Instead of crying, or feeling sorry for myself, or focusing on what I have lost, I am going to focus on what my mother has gained. She is restored. She has life.