I was 6 years old when my parents decided to move from Vancouver, B.C., to the U.S. It was a jarring move for me: no good-byes to my aunt, uncle and cousins; no farewell to my school, the very kindly Sisters, or my classmates; and no “please write to me!” exchanged with little friends in the neighborhood. To me, the fact that the U.S. had sidewalks was enough justification for this gigantic move. Ah, kids…..
In the middle of the night, my 20 year old brother leaned over my low-lit bed and said, “Catherine, I’m going now to France.” With that, he kissed me and he was gone. I felt unsettled, vaguely afraid. But, the sun rose and I was in my room, surrounded by all of my toys. “Catherine, you have 20 minutes. Choose the toys you want to bring to the U.S. Hurry!” said my mother. Huh? Well all right, I tried to pick some, & then my thoughts wandered…. She returned to the room, annoyed. “We have no more time! Here's your stuffed dog; we are going to America!” With that, she closed the front door to the house, we got into a taxicab, and were off.
When we reached the edge of Vancouver, she told me, “Say good-bye to Canada now, Catherine. You won’t see it again for a very long time.” I waved at the tall buildings gleaming in the sun, and at the water in the distance. We boarded a train for California; and I recall her being cranky the whole way along.
The next day, my dear, irreligious father secured an apartment at our destination, having made an agreement with the Catholic School Principal that, if he had an address by 5:00 p.m., I would be enrolled in Grade 2. We all met at the train station in California, and the landscape was entirely different, as were the people’s accents, and the pace of life. We went home to a dinky apartment on the main drag.
The following day, my mother brought me into the Church. It was a huge place: a very high ceiling, gorgeous stained glass windows glinting in the sunlight, with a red carpet rolled down the nave to the altar. Blinking, I was awestruck, and I wondered why we were here. My mother, however, was focused on other things. She looked straight ahead, toward the Altar, and I felt her stiffen. There were no other people in the Church, and the stillness and lack of sound felt comfortingly peaceful.
She took my hand and walked, determinedly, up the center aisle, looking all the while directly ahead. I wondered what the heck she was doing. We reached the front of the altar rail and she stopped, standing silent in front of a huge crucifix of Jesus, in a beautiful gold setting with a green silky backdrop. We stood for what seemed an eternity. “Catherine,” she began, “Jesus loves you. You are very special to Him. You are a child, and Our Lord loves children the most.” I thought, ‘Why?’ She went on: “You can always speak to Him and He will hear you.” We both gazed up for long moments at Him, hanging there and looking miserable and hurt. She continued, “No matter what happens to you, and no matter what wrong you may do in your life, Remember This: He loves you so very much. You can always come here and He will help you. You must never be afraid.”
Wow! She had shaken my World. At that moment, in a foreign land where I had few familiar "comforts of home", and where I knew only 2 people; here He was, the same as He’d been in Canada. I felt safe in His Presence, as we went into a pew and my mother knelt to pray, to connect with Him. She had an important relationship with Him; that much I knew. He sustained her. I could see it. It had always been this way. She had peace. She had certainty. And she knew she was both safe and loved. It was always like that.
She had given me a Place to Stand, a Hand to Guide me, and a Road Map, at such an uncertain and difficult time. And I never forgot. My mother is deceased today, but I would like to express my gratitude to her and to God, for this most profound gift with which she equipped me so long ago. Thank you, Lord, for the gift of my mother and her faith, shared. May she rest peacefully now, in your arms. As for me, I know that most children are not so fortunate, and I am so very grateful.
No comments:
Post a Comment