A Lesson in Faith

Well, this whole week has been very sad for me.

The final toy and trinket count for Thelma is one Christmas ornament, one purple bear, one stuffed cat, three Christmas cards, one keychain, one pencil set with a notebook covered in angels, and an 8-inch poseable scarecrow. Most of them are on display and still used--except the ornament, which is packed away in my holiday "closet." She really has been with me all along.

I got up this morning and had to get my hair done, which is perfect timing: another job interview Monday. The tiny place is called Pier Luca, and if you can imagine sinks and blow dryers inside a tiny church? That's it: ornate, gold, littered with statues of angels, candle, depictions of Padre Pio (I kid you not), St. George, St. Michael, Mary, and the Infant of Prague. Given my solemn mood, it was nice to be near my old neighborhood and surrounded by the Catholic icons of my childhood.

There was only thing to do afterwards: visit St. Finbar's, the church where I was baptized and attended mass until I was 9 years old. Today, in Indiana, Thelma was laid to rest at Trinity Baptist church. This was all I could think about. A heavy feeling hit me, and it was more than humidity as I ascended the stairs. Amazingly, a mass in Italian was taking place. I passed the stations of the cross, a statue of Mary and Padre Pio (he's everywhere, I guess), and took a seat. From what I could understand, it was for a couple. Not a wedding, but something else-- then I saw two well-dressed seniors in take the altar. The priest began speaking in English about how they were there again where they were married to celebrate their 50th anniversary with all they knew. Almost half the church was filled, and it was clear I was not family. I smiled and nodded at those who turned around. The priest continued with an incredible sermon. I scribbled some of it down.

"Today we mark 50 years of faith for this loving couple. Faith and faithfulness are not popular things in today's world, but it is God's love and faith for each and every one of us that allows a successful union among those who believe. If you can believe, even in difficulty and in sorrow, the years pass maybe not with ease, but with strength. Strength comes from faith."

He quickly broke into Italian, and they re-dedicated their vows to each other. There was much weeping, myself included. It suddenly seemed strange that I was crying amongst strangers, so I left. As I turned the block, I stopped in a new restaurant (it wasn't there a few months ago) and had a plate of pasta. In honor of all my Italians. Good food, good life they used to say.

I turned up my old block to see my first butterfly of this summer. Two little girls told me they adopted a caterpillar and the cocoon broke open. This tiny black and yellow creature sat on the girl's finger perched like a sparrow. Shame that butterflies don't live very long, I thought. As if reading my thoughts, she said, "I think we'll have him a long time." Ah, children. They believe no matter what.

And that's what summed up my day--the faith that while Thelma's body finally gave out, her spirit remains. It is only with news of her passing, that I can think of how steeped she in my mind, my memory, my life. This was a woman who gave and gave with what she saw as an unlimited amount of strength, but it was her faith that truly allowed her to keep going. When we knew she might collapse from exhaustion, she did not.

I will always see her toys and cards and think of the incredible cheekbones and laugh filling the 6th floor studio as she grabbed hot chocolate in the morning, and tea in the afternoon. Her perfect teeth and burgundy lipstick as she smiled and laughed. Her long, curved fingers in that exact shade of golden bronze nail polish. The encouraging notes she left me when I told her I was leaving that job. The cartoons we shared, the puns, the jokes...all of it still fresh--always fresh--in my mind. She told me I had to have the courage to ask for more. In my paycheck and in life. "Why settle? There's always gonna be someone who wants it more than you," she told me. "Get ON with it!" she would say, and how I laughed. She was right of course, and my current job search certainly exemplifies this point. I must have faith that things will improve, and that the right moment will turn my way. Plenty of events in my life tell me otherwise, but that's what I need to block out. I am lucky that time moves forward and does not stand still.


A passing, an anniversary, a memory, a butterfly. There is always hope.