The feminine genius - it isn't always easy

"He never said it would be easy, He only said it would be worth it."  (I don't know who said it first, but I heard it from Terry Polakovic.)

One of the things we learned in our first Endow class that the "feminine genius," is something that you were born with, but needs to be nurtured and developed.  Looking back, I've had so many things that have happened to help that process along.  I've watched my mother care for others.  My husband's parents and the older aunts of his family have provided many opportunities to practice that authentic femininity.  Many times with wheel chairs and infant car seats in tow, it definitely wasn't easy.

I didn't realize it at the time, but as we were finishing our Endow class, "Letter to Women," at my local parish, my husband's Aunt M. was completing her life.  As she never married, she lived alone in her own home since her last sister passed away in 1998.  Her independence was incredible.  On March 21, 2010 she went out for lunch with her friends.  The next day, she called and said she had to get to the doctor.  Her afternoon appointment ended with a hospital stay for a bowel obstruction.  A few days in the hospital, followed by a few days in the nursing home resulted in another blockage.

On Easter Sunday, 2010, she was transferred to a larger hospital 60 miles away. This now-frail, 94-year-old woman, for the first time in a long time, truly needed someone.

Starting Easter Sunday, Pat and I made one, and sometimes two, trips a day to see her.   The one-hour each-way trip became a part of our routine.  And, it wasn't easy.  Many times we left our 16- and 12-year-old sons early in the morning, or returned close to bed-time.

While her surgery went well, her recovery didn't.  Some amazing things happened during those 2 weeks.  About a week after surgery, we woke her up when we arrived.  She looked at Pat and apologized for being so much trouble.  Her next words I'll never forget, "I don't want to be here, I want to be there."  She was looking past us and through us, so much so that I turned around hoping to see what she was seeing.  Pearly gates?  Gold?  Angels?  I only saw the wall of the ICU and I know she saw more.

By the next morning, I knew she would be wanting to pray the Rosary (she was a faithful prayer) and wouldn't have the physical ability to do so.  I went alone that morning with the goal of praying with her.  I was scared to death.  I don't know why, but I felt like I could say the Rosary with anyone, but praying with her, a Master Prayer, scared me silly.  During the drive, I prayed the whole hour for courage.  When I arrived at her bedside, the Occupational Therapist was there.  I felt at ease rather quickly as I noticed she was wearing her 4-way cross medal necklace and her Saint bracelet!  It was the boost I needed at that moment.  Oh yeah, the words "I came to pray the Rosary with you" came pretty easy that morning.  Know what?  That therapist did not wear that necklace and bracelet again in the week that followed.

Sister Margaret, an long-time family friend, shared a story about telling Aunt M. that the Sisters in Dubuque were praying for her.  When Aunt M. opened her eye, Sister said that she saw a light, almost a glow that she's never seen before.

Pat's aunt did get to celebrate her 95th birthday, but mostly we celebrated her birthday for her at her bedside.  (She would have loved scratching off that $50 Missouri lottery ticket from a relative!  She was a lottery pull-tab expert, too.  I hope the one I buried with her was a big winner.)

Last week my husband and I were amazed that April was almost over.  Where had the time gone?  It wasn't easy dividing up our time, buying gas, being away from home, but our loved one is now with her Loved One for eternity, so it was worth it.  I realized that I didn't have much time last month to read Scripture, but for a while, I guess that I was living it instead.  The things that people said and wrote to me told me that they were watching our actions and that can be the most powerful witness of all.

We've lost six "matriarchs" of our church in the past seven weeks, their ages ranged from 88 to 99.  Pat's aunt is one of them.  They lived through quite a time, didn't they?  World War II, electricity, running water, telephones, cars, short-hand, women's lib...   While their life's journey wasn't always easy, they stayed true to their faith.  Their faith kept them strong.  Looking at their lives, what do they all have in common?  I saw them at church regularly (until bad health forced them to slow down), they were at confession regularly, they wore out rosaries.

What's next?  I still have thank-you's to finish, a husband and sons to care for, a house to clean, work to do, a feminine genius to keep developing.  It won't be easy, but He and our Blessed Mother will make it worth it.