A Wise Woman

Our Mom was a wise, wise woman. In 1958, when I was in my early 20's, with one child and another on the way, I told her my husband and I were deciding to follow a call to be foreign missionaries. She had only one question, and one little bit of advice: "Are the Catholic bishops behind this missionary organization?" (yes), and: "Well, don't let them send you to Africa, too dangerous!" And at that time she was not Catholic herself;she was Presbyterian.

Through the next 30 years, until shortly before her death, she never complained, never gave a hint she'd like us to stop traipsing around and live closer. The Lord Himself took a hand and arranged for us to move to a neighboring state three years before her death, so I began to see her more than the once or twice a year previously.Every year, as long as she could, she made the effort to come see us, even as far as Chile.

Even when she heard that the cancer had returned, after 22 years, her housekeeper had to browbeat her into calling me in Mexico where we were giving a retreat. Of course I returned immediately and spent the next 3 months helping care for her and enjoying her gentle company and marvelous wit right up until almost the last day of her life.

About 14 days before her death, a daughter-in-law remembered Mom had said, "If I ever come live with you, I'll probably become a Catholic", so we asked her if she was still of that mind. After another 24 hours of thinking about it, with a very sweet smile she said, "YES". That same day she received all the pertinent Sacraments and a few days later, on hearing the bells ringing, she said, "I want to go to Mass." So we popped her into her wheelchair and rolled her across the parking lot to the daily Mass. It was the only time in her life she attended Mass as a Catholic. It was the feast of St. Monica, the undaunted and longsuffering mother of St. Augustine. She died peacefully a few days later.

God's ways are wondrous ways.