Grandma's Church is Mine Too

I have been asked many times why I practice Catholicism. The question must stem because I am an independent thinker and there is a conception that being Catholic is rigid in believes which is really not founded in truth.  All churches have foundations but the people that practice their faiths have their own individuality. Mine is grounded in my grandmother’s love of the church and in me.

My Grandma Gliatti, as I called her, was as devoted to the Church as anyone I ever met in my life. She was Italian, coming to the United States after marrying. One of the things she retained is her Roman Catholic faith. That aspect of her life never changed till the day she died.

One weekend a month, my dad would load up the car and off we would go to Toledo, Ohio to head to Point Place to see Grandma and Grandpa.  All of those visits were always welcome trips at a time when many kids hated being away from their friends. My joy was being around my grandma. She was and is the purest form of love to me. 

When Dad would leave us alone with her to go out at night, she would talk to my sister Terri and me about God and her faith. She explained to us about faith and about the Catholic Church, how much she loved it and her devotion to it, from the time she was a little girl. We, at the time, were not practicing Catholics.  My sister was a few years older and remembers the content more than I do but I remember her Catholic prayers at that time.

When Grandma got too sick to go to Mass, she would sit on Sundays in front of the TV and turn on Mass. She would go through the entire Mass reciting all the responsorials as if she was attending. If we interrupted her or were too loud, she would shush us. This was important to her and we all knew it.  It made quite an impression on me and stayed with me. Mass was a must for Grandma.

In my life, no one seemed to love me like Grandma Gliatti. She was the unconditional love person God put in my life. No one had that kind of unconditional regard for me and I believed some of that came from her love and faith in God.  She thought I was loveable for just being me. 

I remembered her faith and chose to raise my children in the Catholic Church. I taught my children the same lessons my grandmother taught me. “No matter what happens to me, God will always be with you and his love is far greater than mine. He will also see that I will be watching over you.”  

I wanted my kids to know that faith mattered, keep the lines open to God I would reinterate. I wanted them to know I unconditionally loved them so told them every night. I even gave them the sign of the cross on their forehead when they were asleep before I went to bed, even when they got older. This was something done to me when I was confirmed in the Catholic church. I wanted God to always bless them and watch over them, part of my Catholic faith.

Now I have stayed with the Catholic Church because every time I attend, I sit in Mass andI  am at home with Grandma. I feel her there with me, smiling knowing I am following the faith she told me was such an integral part of her. I feel God’s love there too. I feel it other places also, like when I’m outside in the yard, or in front of the ocean or in a park,  but in the church is definitely different. Grandma taught me that the cross means that God so loved me that he gave me/us his only son.  She also said that she would always watch over me. I love the feeling in my church because I get a sense she is attending it with me.

I love the ritual of Catholic Mass, the routine where I can depend on a format I can follow just like Grandma did over and over again in her living room. I know what each part means, each has a significance that relates back to faith and Christian growth. I see Grandma smiling all the while.  I am grateful Masses are said in English and much more contemporary, especially the churches I chose to attend, so it is relatable.  We all need to feel we are sitting at a table with friends and not being talked down to when at Church.

So, yes I am open-minded and progressive but I am Catholic and proud of it. I am Grandma Gliatti’s protégé even now.  I will continue to be till I die and she will continue to smile. I will continue to grow and love in faith. May you find the peace and love of God in your heart in whatever works for you! 

Patience Sometimes Take Humility

“Patience is the companion of wisdom,” Saint Augustine said.  I was reminded that lesson today.  God is amazing that He reminds us of the truly important lessons in life in the simplest of gestures. Watch, wait and listen with a happy heart and good things come to pass to those who wait!

As I was out today, trying to quickly do some returns in the store and pick up a few needed items, I was getting rather annoyed as no one seemed to be present at any single register. Everywhere I went I was greeted with This Register is Closed displayed in black and white like a HaHa sign aimed right at me; you are wasting your time lady. I would have left but I had a return bag in my hand from an online purchase I wanted to get off my charge card.

Finally I saw a register open with a lady at it and as I  approached I noticed only one customer at the counter. As I congratulated myself on my good luck, my hopes were quickly dashed. Walking closer, this woman had the dreaded massive overload cart of too many items to count!  And she looked to me to be Miss High Maintenance.  I was in no mood for this and was hoping she would turn around, make eye contact with me and say, go ahead of me.

Well, she did turn around and look at me but the words she uttered were “I am sorry for the wait this may be.”  Oh, I felt like she had smacked me, just like those darn signs that said Register Closed. What was this, conspiracy day against Veronica Gliatti at the retail store or what?  Should I wait or should I go? 

Out comes my cell, my BFF when stuck in a slow moving line. I knew I was not going anywhere quickly. And then, to my surprise, one pair of shoes after 

another were placed on the counter. With each pair the customer insisted the cashier check each shoe to ensure the size matched the size marked on the outside box label and each shoe pair were the same, in size and style!  All I could think off, while watching this transpire out of the corner of my eye was why she could not have done this prior to coming to the checkout line! 

As this progressed, there was some discussion going on about the shoes I did not even want to hear as my frustration grew!  There were big shoes, little shoes, male shoes, female shoes, kids shoes, all clearance but I kept thinking what the hell lady, did you buy every damn pair in the store! 

At one point, the cashier actually asked her, in hushed tones, but it caught my ear, if she wanted her to call someone to get matching sizes of pairs that were incorrectly matched. I just about lost it by then, keying into my phone to my best friend my anger. What the hell is wrong with today, I asked?  Is it storming outside bad luck?  I am behind a moron shoe fetish lady!  Help me; I will need heeling after this!  If the cashier left the register to retrieve matchy sizes and shoes going to the shoe department I was determined I would consider leaving. That was where my battle line would have to be drawn.

Luck was on my side and apparently the lady said what she had that matched would suffice. There was a Shoe God! Eventually this sale was over, along with about 20 pairs of shoes  and the lady turned around, politely,  probably sensing my frustration and again apologized for taking up so much time. I naturally told her it was fine. I even said, it is a pain to get home with shoes that don’t match in sizes.  I thought, especially a whole wardrobe of them!

As the lady left, the cashier leaned across the counter towards me. She said “I was really sorry for the long wait. I wonder if you knew what she was doing and why the matching mattered.” I was about ready to respond with a curtly, “Why didn’t she check them herself” but before I could the cashier continued speaking. “That woman is mailing all of those shoes out of the country to Puerto Rico to hurricane victims. She got sizes for victims in need. Isn’t that wonderful!"

Right then and there, my sense of humility kicked in big time.  I had been so busy worrying about my sense of time, my sense of purpose, returning some dumb item that I had not even bothered to think perhaps what someone else was doing in front of me had a far greater purpose.

Too often we have people come into our lives that are meant to touch us in very special ways. We are given the chance to embrace these opportunities and must be patient about what the lesson is. We have to give it time, it may not be able to be rushed and be on God's timeline, not ours. The message may be so worth it, so valuable, so life-changing. Is it worth not learning, not taking the chance?  Dare to find out with a bit of patience. And, just like the shoes, our souls always need some healing.  

God bless the people in Puerto Rico as they continue to heal!