Holy Cross

Yesterday marked the 52nd anniversary of my mother's death.  In another nine and a half months, she will have been gone longer than she was alive on this earth.  She was 52 years old and at the time, it seemed like a fairly old age.

My mother was a wonderful person.  She was musically inclined; she could grow anything inside the house and outside; she was very funny; she could tailor clothing; and, she was an excellent baker and cook.  Wow!  But what made her special to me was how kind she was to everyone.  If the blind man came selling his wares, like brooms and dish cloths, she would have him come in the house and sit down in the living room.  She always bought something, even if our kitchen broom was still new from his last visit.  She was open to people and enjoyed hearing about others' lives. She was incredibly trusting and welcoming.

She wasn't perfect.  Since I was only 14 when she died, the tendency is there to make her so, but that isn't right or fair.  One thing she stressed about our faith is that the ten commandments are the key to it, and if we just work at following these commandments, we would do well.

Some years ago, my husband and I decided to make the trip to the two cemeteries where our parents are buried.  First, we went to Greenlawn Cemetery near Rolling Acres.  His mother, father, and step-father are all buried there.  Jorgen Herman Nelsen came from Denmark and settled in the USA and died at the age of 52 in his sleep.  His mother married "Red" Elliott and he died first, and then her.  They were good people and they are missed.

Next, we traveled to Cleveland to Holy Cross Cemetery just off Brookpark Road.  I knew the section number (Section 15) for my mother's grave and that she was closest to the St. Anne statue there.  We found that soon enough, but after looking for a while I was really starting to worry that we would not find the grave at all.  My husband (knowing that it is a challenge for me to locate business establishments in the Belden Village area) said he would just drive around the corner to make sure we were on the correct side of Section 15.  So I was alone.

There were some cemetery workers there, unloading chairs for a burial service that day.  It was scorching hot and everything was as dry as could be.  I stood there glancing about when all of the sudden a whirlwind started up near the workers.  They stopped working and pointed to it.  And it was moving towards me, so I shielded my eyes and face since the whirlwind had caught up the dried leaves, grass and dirt within its midst. It engulfed me and then went downward towards the road.  I followed the path that the whirlwind had taken, don't know why, and there was my mother's grave.  When my husband came back, he found me kneeling there and crying.  It was a very, very real touch from God and of my mother.  It felt like pure love.

How much God loves us!!  How much God showers us with his mercy!!