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Our Faith Comes Alive! And the Greatest of These is Love by Shelley Perry This past summer, at age 87, my grandmother passed away. Throughout the year before her death realizing that my time with her was limited, I spent a lot more time listening to her stories. I came to love and appreciate her in so many new ways but what I have come to understand most of all through her, is that my heritage, above all else, is one of Love — the kind of love that comes from sacrifice; like Christ's love for us. My grandmother was born in the village of St. Felix with a ‘bum' knee. The doctors said that she would never learn to walk, but through determination she eventually proved them wrong. I remember her sad face as she would recall how her brothers and sisters would leave her behind to limp along at her slow pace. She absolutely loved school and dreamt of becoming a teacher, and so was heartbroken when she was forced to quit in order to care for her family when her mother became sick. Eventually she met a young man who was "from the shore." The boys from the shore had a reputation for being bootleggers and trouble-makers, but despite that she accepted his invitation to walk her home one evening. I guess that was enough to mean you were dating in those days, and sure enough they got married. My grandfather was blind in one eye and I always laugh at the thought of the pair of them – a bum knee and a bad eye – and remember that love is indeed for all! Being from very poor families, they started out with very little but still managed to build a small house in the west end of Summerside. My grandparents had 12 children and raised them all in a tiny, three-bedroom house--often even taking in extra kids! Every night at 6 p.m. sharp the family could be found on their knees in the living room saying the rosary. Anyone who happened to drop by at that time was also made to participate -- no exceptions. My dad remembers trying to sneak out at that time, while some of their friends would try to sneak in so they could feel like part of a family. But my grandparents made everyone feel like part of their family as if there were no limit to the number of people who could belong. St. Francis once said: "Preach the Gospel wherever you go, and if you have to, use words." My grandmother never preached, but lived her faith through her actions of devotion and love. But it was in the tough times that her faith was made strong. In 1969 her beloved daughter, Anne, was hit by a car and killed. As the family searched for answers, my grandmother trusted that God would bring goodness from such a great loss. Among her belongings recently was even found a letter of forgiveness and empathy for the driver of the car that killed Anne. In 1996 her beloved husband died and for the first time in her life my grandmother was left with no one to care for. Although she rarely talked about it, the ache of missing him never dulled for a moment. As I learned about my grandmother – not just the facts, but who she really was–I was left standing in awe. This woman's blood runs in my veins! I had never been prouder of my heritage – poor, Catholic, Acadian. I think the elderly are our greatest treasure, our biggest asset, and our best resource. We have a lot to learn if we could only take the time to learn it from the people who know best. I am thankful for every moment I spent with my grandmother and the great legacy she left. I see how she made her family her priority; how she took in the lost and lonely; how she loved Christ through the witness of her daily actions. I want to do the same–she set too great of an example for me to settle for less.
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