Strength

My brother Robert Earl

This morning, Our Lord Jesus Christ called my older brother Bob home with Him after quite a  long battle with diabetes, and the complications that ensued with great suffering the last few months.  He bore these sufferings with what I would consider "heroic virtue"--the stuff that Saints are made of.  He had one visit to the hospital after the other, but never gave up hope or faith that it was God's will.  I will miss his emails and frequent phone calls, and especially his spiritual direction.  Rest in the peace of Christ, Bob!  (While you're at it, put a good word in for me and the rest of the family, OK?  And I'll continue to pray for/with you.)


I got the phone call from my sister-in-law Marilyn early this morning, before dawn.  I expressed my sorrow, and asked if Mom knew yet.  Marilyn said she didn't want Mom to find out over the phone.  I took that to mean I would be the messenger of the news.  I have to admit, I was extremely worried that when I told Mom that her first-born child had died, that any number of things would happen;  one, that she would be inconsolable; two--because of her age--she would be so distraught that she would have a heart attack herself; three, that she would simply faint, and I would have no idea how to revive her.  At first, I thought I would wait until she usually wakes up--around 9 am--to visit her and tell her.  But I finally made the decision I should just get ready and go right away; she HAD to know, and I had to tell her so I wouldn't continue to stress about it. 


Mom lives about 25 minutes away.  On the drive over to her apartment, I was trying to "psych" myself up and figure just the right words to soften the news and minimize the trauma for her (and me).  I was just getting off of the freeway when my phone rang.  I looked at the screen on the phone, and it said "Mom".  I thought, "Oh, my God, someone's already told her and she's going to need me NOW!"  Instead, in a calm voice, she asked me, "Have you heard about Bob?"  I said, "Yes, I'm just getting off the freeway now, and I'll be there in a couple of minutes".  She said, "I'm OK, Honey, God has given me time to prepare for this." The same two words I used to describe Bob's experience came to mind--"heroic virtue".   I asked her who called her, and she replied that my nephew (Bob's son Tim) had called and said he knew she was strong enough to handle the news.  Good call.  He must have remembered how well she handled Tom's death 10 years ago next month, not to mention Dad's passing 40 years ago. 


Mom's reaction today prompted me to reflect on another woman who, many years ago, watched in agonizing sorrow as her Son was reviled, scourged, nailed to a cross and unjustly crucified like a common criminal.  She bore it with the very model of heroic virture because she was "full" of grace--a grace that enabled her to bear that pain and heartache (and "unite" it with her Son's pain and suffering) with confidence and faith in an infinitely loving God. And she was rewarded as only the Mother of us all could be--her glorious Assumption into Heaven.