Wednesday, December 3, 2008


In our house, Guadalupe (as my littlest son calls her) is BIG. And I mean it. We have a statue the size of a four-year-old child in our hallway, right next to our holy table of Guadalupe. And since our recent break-in we have had some issues with the little ones being scared at night, wanting to sleep in our room, bed, etc. but we are a musical beds sort of family anyway and so this doesn't bother us, however, the other night littlest son said, "don't be scared of the stealers mama (not the football team, but the people who broke into our house) because Guadalupe has spikes and she'll protect us."
And so it is with Guadalupe, she seems to always be there, watching and waiting.
I know that when I was a little bit worried about the bedroom placement in this house, my husband said the same thing to me, Guadalupe is there, she will watch over us.
And then I recall when my grandfather was dying, he was confined to a hospital bed in his bedroom and when I'd go and visit him we'd talk about the good old days and he'd tell me about the processions they'd had at the church up the street from where they lived for her feast and how much he'd enjoyed them, which prompted me to consult her for a very important mission. at this point he and my grandmother had been away from the church for 20+ years and I had a nagging feeling that I needed to do something for this man who I loved so dearly. A man who was so close to dying and desperately needed the sacraments. So what did I do? I went to her. I went to my heavenly mother and I entrusted my plan into her hands and ultimately she worked her wonders through the power given her by Our Lord Jesus Christ.
My grandmother belonged to a church which just so happened to have a pastor-in-transition issue during the very last weeks of my grandfather's life, there were vacations to be had and office issues to be dealt with, so I took it upon myself to call the very same Catholic Church they used to attend years ago and the little aged priest, Fr. Fitzwilliam, God rest his soul, was available to come and "visit" with my grandfather. Well, after a few visits, he had a last confession and HOLY VIATICUM for his journey. I believe he received Holy Communion at least twice before he died and all to the dismay of all of the fallen away members of my family (my parents and myself excluded).
So my conclusion to this little story is this: don't ever underestimate a mother's love, because at the end of a very long life, my grandfather, who died on his 91st birthday, did so with the grace and dignity of a child of God. The mother who promised Juan Diego, "do not be afraid, I am here, I am your mother" was faithful to me in the very same way. For this very simple request I made of her, if you look at it in human terms, seemed impossible: he had been away from the Church too long, the family was furious about my interference, my grandmother would never allow it and so on and so forth, but as we all know, with GOD, ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE.
And besides, I don't mind having a little faith in someone clothed with the sun, because she must be really important in God's eyes.
After all, He trusted her with HIS Son!