Must we live through a lot of history before we love history? Must we be an antique before we appreciate antiques?
My fascination with ancestors just took off this year when Janine, my daughter-in-law, discovered a Luxembourg Museum in her Wisconsin territory. For Christmas she and my son John bought me a year’s membership and took me for a visit soon after. What an exciting adventure!
When a recent series of health problems prevented me from my usual daily activities, including daily Mass, I felt loved by the attentions of my family.
They bought my groceries, picked up my prescriptions, and took me to the doctor. I found myself saying, “Okay, Lord, I get it. That’s why you gave me so many kids. Now give me back my independence.”
I grew up with clear notions of what kind of “old lady” I wanted to be.
I would have a pleasant relationship with my grandchildren and not always be criticizing them for wearing nail polish. I wouldn’t complain all the time about my arthritis and ulcers and tell them they didn’t need all that education because they “were just going to get married anyway.” I would keep up with the times.
Back in the “old days” when I was a student at Madonna High school (early 40s) we were taught by an order of Francisan Sisters who were on their toes when it came to keeping up with the latest Church trends.
The liturgical movement had just emerged and the good Sisters endowed us with the latest in liturgical art and the best of Catholic literature.
When I look at the pictures taken last year on Christmas Eve, they bring tears to my eyes and a smile on my lips.
Our family gathered as usual: eight of the 10 children and 12 grandchildren and great-grands who live in the area, not in Grandma’s house or Aunt Krissy’s, but at Countryside Nursing Home in Jefferson. Since Grandpa couldn’t join us, we joined him in the beautiful parlor with its huge fireplace and Christmas tree.
Sometimes I ask […]
