Gratitude to my mother

 

Everyone has made their own journey of human development. Along the way we were nurtured physically, emotionally, culturally, linguistically and spiritually by our parents.  Twelve years ago on this day I said goodbye to my mother who had lived a good and long life.  Her quiet, unassuming and warm personality helped shaped my experience of childhood.  For her and, indeed, for most of her generation faith was a key part. And the practice of one’s faith was very much centred on the Mass. I am very grateful for that.  

I have no doubt that the prayers of mothers have been and continue to be effective in ways that we will never know how this side of eternity.  The picture on this blog is from my mother’s little pocket missal and dates from the 1940s. It provided a condensed and accessible booklet with English and Latin versions of the mass, collects, readings and additional devotions.  For me, personally, it is a priceless gem: not simply a relic of another era, but a tangible link to the faith that sustained her and, through her, helped form me.