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by Mary Ellen My mom always told me how hard she prayed to our blessed mother for a child, and our Lady graciously answered. I was born on the feast of the Archangels, at Queen of the Angels hospital. She and my father made me feel so special and loved. May parents were married outside of the church forty-two years ago, and for one reason or another assumed they couldn’t be reconciled. So although they could not receive the Sacraments, they made sure I did. But as the years passed on so did their attendance at Mass, only to see the inside of the church for my own children’s Sacraments. My mom was diagnosed with cancer in April of 2002. I encouraged her to get anointing of the sick but she would tell me, “Ok, when I feel better,” I said, “No mom, so you will feel better.” For a year I prayed and sacrificed chocolate, for her, funny as it sounds. It was the least I could do. I love chocolate, but I loved my mother more. So I sacrificed just as she had all her life for me. My family and friends kept up the prayers and I persisted on the need for a priest. The years passed, thirty-five radiation treatments, and a so-called clean bill of health in February of 2003. But her pain continued until she was unable to work, and was in bed. My friend Lucy reminded me to get the brown scapular on her, and was nice enough to get me a blessed one for her. I had to pin the scapular to the shoulder of her nightgown because it was in the way when she was getting sick. Finally in her last two weeks she was ready for the much prayed for priest. On May 4, 2003 she and my father made their Confessions, she had Anointing of the Sick and they both received Our Lord in Holy Communion. Another answered prayer. Just twelve days later the hospice nurse told us “it won’t be long,” mom was dying. When I entered the room the TV was on so I turned it to EWTN and by God’s Grace “The Chaplet of Divine Mercy” followed by the sorrowful mysteries of the Rosary was on, it was Friday. We gathered around held her hands, prayed and cried. I noticed the scapular pinned to her shoulder of her nightgown, I knew I had to get it on her the correct way. But by this time she was not coherent in fact she had already lost reflex in her eyes. I unpinned the scapular but with her head pressed up against the pillow and the oxygen tube, I wondered, “How the heck am I going to get this on?” Well it wasn’t me that had to do the work; divine intervention was on the way! Suddenly my mom sat forward and put her head down. I slipped the scapular on, and she laid back down only to take a few last breathes before she was gone from this world. The Hail Holy Queen echoed from the TV, what a beautiful death. A month later our younger daughter was writing a note and found our old 2002 Saints Calendar suitable enough to make straight line with. It happened to open to May sixteenth, she recognized the day to be the day that grandma died, so she went on to read the featured saint story; it was Simon Stock, who Our Lady of Mount Carmel gave the Brown Scapular to. |
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