By Peggy Stinnet

Many who knew her would say my mother was a saintly woman long before that day when she left this world to journey to her heavenly home. She was an ordinary woman according to most standards, but now, reflecting on her life as something complete, I see what she did was quite extraordinary. This the defining moment of the most personal kind of evangelization, when heaven and earth finally meet revealing to us the perfect diamond that lies beyond our humanness.

My mother looked for no recognition for what she considered her daily duties. She found pride in a clean home, her children and, most importantly, the love of her husband. As far back as I can remember, my mother taught me about God primarily by her example. I can remember as a child going late at night with her to perpetual adoration and sitting next to her in the dark church. On those evenings it was hard for me to separate her from the church in which we sat. She took us to confession on Saturday afternoons, heard our prayers in the evening, and always reminded us to pray for the poor souls who had no one to pray for them.

Mother’s Vocation

My mother had a special gift of assessing any situation and seeing who was in the greatest need.  She often attended to those needs by a dinner invitation, freshly baked pie or a phone call.  She taught by example, showing us children that we needed to be Christ-like to others by our actions.  While at times she too struggled, deep within her I saw the grace that allowed her to carry her own personal crosses and fulfill the vocation to which she was called.

Ailing tree

Through the years as her children grew and left home, my mother’s sense of purpose dwindled, and she struggled to find her place in the world.  She was always supportive and encouraging as we began our new lives, but she seemed empty inside, like a tree that had borne fruit only to die itself.  Her heart was pierced as she watched her children experience heartaches in ways that she had been lucky enough to avoid.  Mom became quiet, withdrawn and to our surprise her health began to fail her.  No one could quite understand the change that was taking place but we knew our mother was no longer the same.  Her outgoing personality gave way to a quiet, more subdued nature, and before long two strokes forever changed the mother we had once known.

Through months of rehabilitation she fought back, regaining some of her mobility, but the voice that prayed with us and taught us our life lessons was silenced. When my mother lost her speech, a stillness came over our family like the calm after a storm. It was hard for us to comprehend this difference. Instinctively we continue to converse with her, waiting for the response that never came. If this was hard for us, I know it was even harder for Mom. She tried sometimes to speak but only ended up exhausted by the effort.

Be still

It was during these times that I began to see a transformation take place in her.  While many of the things she had learned to depend on during her life were being taken from me, God in His great providence was giving her in her time of silence an interior voice only He could hear.  I recalled the words of Scripture being spoken to the depths of her heart:  “Be still and know that I am God.” (Ps 46:10)

True Love

My father, an extraordinary minister of the Eucharist, would bring her Holy Communion as often as possible, uniting her with the Lord she remembered from those dark, quiet nights so long ago.  God made her dependent on us, allowing us an opportunity to give back to her, and for the first time in her life she was able to receive.  I watched as grace unfolded before my eyes.  I saw my father minister to my mother, caring for her in a complete and beautiful way.  He taught us the true meaning of the word love as it radiated through his every action and fell upon her as delicately as rain on fragile flower.  The Sacrament of Matrimony took on a new meaning to me as I watched the supernatural bringing them both to a new level of love that was truly a mystical experience.

Ready to go

“Like a thief in the night” (1 Thess 5:2), the time the Lord had so gently prepared us for finally came.  No one is ever really ready to say goodbye to those he loves, but watching our Mother suffering enabled each one of us to say the same prayer:  “When her place is ready, Lord, take her home.”  One day she stopped eating, and soon she could no longer tolerate even the liquids we tried to coax down her throat.  Her eyes showed her weariness and desire to no longer fight the body that had given up long ago.  When Dad brought her Communion that day and she could no longer swallow it, we knew then that the Lord was ready to unite Himself with Mother in a more perfect way.  This was our comfort in the difficult days ahead—that our prayers were being answered, and her place was ready.

We chose a gravesite near the woods in a cool, shady spot, like Mom used to choose to set up the camper for family vacations. We knew in our hearts this had little meaning except to comfort those of us left behind. We saw our mother being purified before our very eyes, daily growing more dependent on God and less on what the world offered.

Her Fulfilled Mission

In her final hours her nine children kept vigil at her bedside.  We slept together under the same roof, comforting each other and praying the rosary as we used to do when we were little.  I thought about that rosary and how her life mirrored those meditations.  She was obedient to God, giving life to each of us, teaching us and trusting our Heavenly Father when we were lost.  She agonized, gave totally of herself, carried the cross and was now dying to the life she had known.

As we prayed the glorious mysteries, my mother became radiant to me, not in the earthly sense but through the eyes of faith. I knew that our Lord, his Mother, and even the poor souls in purgatory that we prayed for – that great communion of saints – were present. She was seeing them for the first time and at the same time realizing the gift that had been given to her. Her simple life was part of a glorious divine plan that lasts through generations and into eternity.

Final Rest

My mother passed through this world and into her eternal home as quietly as she used to close the door on a sleeping child.  In the days that followed she spoke to us with a new voice – one that was made perfect through her purification.  I believe my mother is a saint, not by what she did but what God accomplished through her “yes”.

Mother’s job on earth is complete, but her role in the life beyond has just begun. For a mother can never rest until her children are safely home in the arms of their Heavenly Father.

Salamat sa THIS ROCK