Immaculate Conception

The Immaculate Conception is my favorite Marian feast day! On this feast, a few years ago, I consecrated myself for the first time, using the prayers of St. Louis Marie DeMontfort, to Mary. She, under this particular title, was instrumental in helping me discern God's call to study at the JPII Institute which only happens to be directly across the street from the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception!! One other experience taking place on this feast, although painful, has forever touched and changed me. Two years ago, a friend of our family's past away. She was the young mother of 5 beautiful child and wife to a courageous man. Her funeral was celebrated on this feast day at our home parish, St. Joseph's Catholic Church in Dexter, MI. Immediately after the funeral I went home and wrote a letter to her husband which I would like to share with you as a way to honor Mary, who I know was praying for her, continues to pray for her surviving family today on the 2 year anniversary of her funeral and taught me about love...

A Story of True Love

I think it was Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta who said that in order for love to be true, it has to hurt. When I first heard that beautifully bold statement it hit me like a ton of bricks. Love, hurt? You see, I have grown up in a world that promotes materialism, where the more you have the happier you will be, a world that encourages ambitious individualism (or selfish-ness), independence - to make it on your own, where beauty is about physical appearance and heavily stressed and a world where promises, devotion, and even love simply mean: only if it isn't to much work and makes me feel good. You can imagine my shock and confusion then when I read those words of Blessed Teresa not so long ago.

I can remember the first time I meet Carol. It was the 4th of July and I came home early from a party to watch my brother and James light off fireworks. I knew very little of Carol then except that she had five kids, was dying of cancer and taught James to love Christ and the Catholic Church. That was all I needed to know in order to form the conclusion that she must have been an amazing woman. I had to meet her. My sister informed me that she was sitting in the back of the family Explorer because she wasn't feeling very well. I was nervous to meet her because in all honesty, what do you say to a young mother of five kids who is dying of cancer? Never the less, I had to meet her.

Time flew by as I talked to Carol about our faith and families. Her courage was admirable and inspiring. I told her she would be in my prayers and she looked me in the eyes and gave me a heartfelt, thank you. As I stepped out of the car, I thanked God for having had the opportunity to meet her and secretly asked Him for faith like hers. It hit me then that I had to meet this woman's husband. What kind of a man, with five kids and a dying wife, could find the time and the energy to bring his family to a midnight, homemade, fireworks display. Naturally, a man of great courage, faith and love.

One night, about a month or so ago, I needed to borrow a shirt from James. You see, as a former Gabriel Richard student, he could provide me with something green and white to wear for the school spirit week. As James went to go find me his shirt I sat in the family room and talked to Carol about my student teaching, her health and our faith. For a split second, I looked at her, her hair failing out, her body swollen and fragile and I couldn't help but wonder how she managed to continue on or how there was a man who could stick by her side through this terribly trying time. As those thoughts raced through my mind, I began, for the first time in my life to understand what true love really is.

The only other times I ever saw Carol were at mass. The first was on her birthday over the summer. After daily mass, I gave her a hug, told her I would be praying for her and then curiously looked upon the man who had just taken her to mass and would then go on to take her for more chemotherapy on her birthday.

The last time I saw Carol was again, at mass, on the feast day of Christ the King. Despite the fact that Jenny was in Minnesota, James and Lily came to sit next to me. I told James it was wonderful to see his mom up and about, he quietly agreed. Mass proceeded on and as I walked back to my seat after having received Jesus, I saw Carol sitting in her pew, looking so beautiful, wrapped in the arms of a man who loved her dearly. Tears filled my eyes as I saw Mother Teresa's word lived out.

I am writing this letter, or story, because I want to thank you, Doug, for your example. I was never able to thank your wife, but she knows now. I will never forget the last time I saw her, the two of you together, loving and hurting. It takes courage to truly love someone because to love is to hurt. As a young woman discerning a vocation to marriage, I cannot repay you or your wife for what you have taught me about love. Love isn't about being attracted to a good-looking person, although it may be a part of it. Love isn't about romantic feelings and tingles, although that may also be a part of it. Love is in fact about giving of yourself, giving so much that it hurts. Christ loved us in that way. I pray that I may be, someday, as beautiful, courageous and as faithful as your wife was, and I pray too, that I may one day find a man who will love me as you have truly loved her.

Carol has carried her cross faithfully and now she has found her salvation. You, however, are still carrying yours, and I can't imagine how heavy it must be. I have been praying for you and I have asked God to help you with your cross and I trust He will. I will continue to pray for you because it is probably all that I can do to help ease your pain. May Saint Joseph intercede for you and protect your family from all harm.

Last year, one year after Carol's funeral, this feast fell on a Wednesday and I was teaching a rather tough group of 7th graders Religious Education. That day I kissed my darling twins goodbye for the night and rushed off to the flower shop to buy just enough flowers for each one of my kids to present to Mary before mass that evening. I asked my parish priest for permission to do so and he suggested we walk up with him at the opening of mass to present the flowers then. It was so beautiful I had to fight off the tears as each child lay their flower at the feet of our Mother. All throughout mass my mind drifted back to how I spent the last feast day of the Immaculate Conception, at Carol's funeral. I fingered the rosary that I had touched to her at the viewing almost nervously, praying for some sort of sign that she was in heaven and no longer needed my prayers. I used that particular rosary almost daily praying for the repose of her sole and grace for her suffering family. After mass, I was walking out with my class, sign-less, when one of the kids (a boy who was not techincally part of our class but would show up with his friend every once in awhile anyway) asked me what I was holding. I told him it was a rosary. He looked at it curiously and retorted that he thought maybe his Grandmother had one. He then looked at me with all sincerity and goodness and asked if he could have it. I knew this particular boy came from a very troubled family but to part with the rosary was something I didn't think I could do. Immedieatly however, I found my hand, almost against my will, outstrechted handing him the most precious relic I owned and burst into violent tears. I told him, through my sobbings, even though this rosary was so important to me, I wanted him to have it. He looked me in the eyes, without embarrassement or nervousness, took it gently from my hand and swore to take care of it for the rest of his life. I knew at that moment that Carol and Mary were giving me the sign I had asked for (although it came in an unexpected way, I didn't think it would require me to "give of myself" in the way it happened). Proof that it was authentic I think! I have not kept in contact with this boy but I'll say that a few months later, on the Wednesday class before the Easter Triduum, he asked me if I would take him to confession... I know he is in the hands of Mary and is prayed for by Carol!

Mary, by your Immacualte Conception, you collaborated, through your fiat, in the restoration and redeemption of all mankind. Pray for us on this joyful day and order us after yourself, the perfect follower of Christ your Son.