The aisleway of God's Outdoor Cathedral
I can still remember the sound of her blue patent leather pumps clicking in perfect rhythm on the bumpy asphalt beneath her feet as we made our way slowly, meandering from from one end of Smith Avenue to the other end. This sound was harmonized by the scampering of four little Mary Janes beating to our own drums and tuning in to chirping birds, falling leaves or barking dogs. I remember the feel of her silky blue glove as she gently cradled my little hand in hers. I remember looking up at her and seeing her crisp blue dress and costume jewelry sparkling in the sun. I recall listening to her voice as she marveled with us at every caterpillar, every puddle and every leaf, which caught our eye and how she told us that God had made all of this because He loved us so dearly. I remember her taking her time to get to our destination, we weren't rushed, the nature walk was part of her plan, an integral piece of the journey as sojourners on the way to the little Presbyterian Church at the end of the street. Her little street was the aisleway of God's outdoor Cathedral. She always preferred to walk to church, no matter what the season or the weather.
You go your way and I'll go mine...it was all about me.
I also remember my alarm going off as I laid stone cold silent in the bed. I didn't feel like going to church. I'd been out very late the night before with my friends. When she came to wake me, I ignored her. When she came back a few minutes later, I bellowed. Finally, as she made her final attempt to rouse me, I'd say, "I know, I know" and she would say, "I'm leaving in thirty minutes with or without you. You are welcome to walk with me, but either way, I'm leaving... The rest is between you and God." I remember thinking smugly to myself, "It isn't about you, it is about me, and I'm too tired to go. You go your way and I'll go mine." More than once she left me, but something inside of me always thrust me out of bed when I heard the door close. Many a time, I hurriedly ran out of her house, still buttoning or zipping something and carrying my shoes in my hands. The leisurely walks were now replaced by the sound of my feet pounding the pavement alone, and some how, this solitary hurried state, made my heart twinge inside for the days of happy, joyful, nature walks.
I remember the day she passed out in the recliner with a cup of scalding hot coffee and burned herself very badly. I remember the ride to the hospital following the ambulance, the congested, windy road. The doctors at the hospital soon discovered that she had passed out from lack of oxygen and she needed an emergency pacemaker. So she underwent the surgery. The doctor accidentally punctured her aorta and she nearly bled to death. I remember the smell of the horrible yellow cleanser in the very busy ICU. I remember holding her wrinkled hand in my own, yearning to feel the silkiness of her church glove once more. I remember people telling her that she was crazy for not sueing the surgeon, but she wouldn't do it, "Everyone makes mistakes" she said. I remember spending all night in the waiting room, and still weeping harder than I ever had before in my life the next morning when I saw her swollen face and arms and legs, she was truly unrecognizable. I remember the doctor telling my anquished father, "Your mother is in critical condition." I remember telling her I loved her, to try to rest, and I'd see her when I got back. I walked out of the hospital and across the street to a local high school where I took my SATs. I was seventeen years old. Afterwards, I ran as fast as I could back to the hospital. It was days before the tubes were removed, and the first thing I can recall her saying, in a very hoarse voice is, "How did you do?" It wasn't about her, it was all about me.
My Conversion....a ten pound baby on her chest.
I remember how accepting she was when I called her from college to tell her that I had decided to go down a different path. I was going to go through R.C.I.A. (Rite of Christian Initiation) classes at the local Catholic church and that John was going to sponsor me, that I wanted to become Catholic. I remember her saying to me how important a role faith could play in a marriage, and how it was something she'd always hoped for, but had never had. She said, "It is much easier when the two of you agree on religion, that will be a blessing to you both!" She loved John and his family and said she totally trusted my decision. Although, she didn't have the money to spare, she scrimped and saved enough money to surprise me with the funds to cover the cost of my wedding dress, I told her I didn't want to take it and she told me, I want this to be my gift to you. She must have been saving from the time I told her about beginning the classes!
I remember the weeks after my first child was born by C-Section as I anquished in pain and discomfort down a road I had not yet travelled. Although into her seventies by then, she came to help me in whatever way she could. I remember how she convinced me that I had to get some sleep and that she would wake me when the baby needed to nurse. While she had a cradle at her disposal, she chose to sleep all night with a 10.5 pound baby on her chest, comforting him and rubbing his back so he'd sleep longer. I finally slept for the first time for consecutive hours at a time. I remember this same child and this same woman then in her eighties playing "tent" under her kitchen table and going for nature walks outside of her apartment, his hand in hers, just as it should have been. I remember how when his little sister arrived after five years of being an only child, that she had a special box filled with treasures just for him when he came for a visit...tiny charms, little acorns, brightly covered leaves, a Cicada shell, so much of God's creation contained in that special little box.
Thank-you for giving me faith, hope and love.
I remember the hours she spent clipping out cartoons, local articles, and church bulletin announcements to stuff the handwritten cards she faithfully sent me from the time I went away to college until she left this world.
I remember her great love of books, poetry and nature and the effect of being immersed in her text rich environment. I learned to love poetry and literature from her example. She was quick to turn off the t.v. and grab a good book. She enjoyed quiet mornings, peaceful sunsets an untrodden paths and so do I.
I also remember the great struggles of her life, an alcoholic abusive husband whom she refused to divorce, two mentally ill sons, one Bi-Polar and the other Schizophrenic, one of whom always seemed to be hospitalized. By her example, she taught me to love, in spite of being hated by the ones that should by all accounts love you, to give when you know you will never receive, to trust with all your heart in God's plan even in your darkest moments, and to keep the faith no matter what the circumstance.
Her name was Inez Thornton Kidd and she was my Grandma. Happy Birthday Grandma! Thank-you for giving me faith, hope and love. Thanks for venturing down the road less travelled.
The Road Less Travelled
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
and sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
and looked down one as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
and having perhaps the better claim
because it was grassy and wanted wear;
though as for that, the passing there
had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
in leaves no feet had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference
Robert Frost
Mary Kidd Flemming blogs for The Handmaids of Mercy , The Splendor of Truth and The Compass Rose (Parenting and Family Life Issues). You may also enjoy her husband's website: Crossroads Family Center The Flemming Family is facing the greatest challenge of their lives as three of their six kids have health issues and were all diagnosed within an eighth month period. The children's illnesses include: Auto-Immune Liver Disease, Type I Diabetes (insulin dependent), and Ewing's Sarcoma (a form of bone cancer). This has been an incredible journey of faith for the Flemming Family. While they don't fully understand why any of this happened to their children, they place their trust and faith totally in God's goodness. By sharing their faith journey, their hope is that other people will be drawn closer to The Holy Trinity (The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit). It is Mary's great hope that the sufferings of her children and family will be received by God for the conversion of souls. JESUS, WE TRUST in YOU!
Comments