Within a two-week period in late July and early August, the Church celebrates both World Youth Day and World Grandparents Day. This gives us an opportunity to reflect on the blessings of our relationships across generations. 

 

In his catechesis for World Grandparents Day, Pope Francis shares a metaphor of the elderly being the roots of a tree and the young being the flowers and fruits. The elderly “have all the history,” and the youth get their juice from these roots, which allows them to flourish. “Everything beautiful that a society has is related to the roots of the elderly,” the Pope writes. 

 

We of differing ages are, thus, dependent upon each other to live fully. And living fully is not a sign of young age, but of the Holy Spirit alive in us. Further, our own genealogy can be as a genealogy in Scripture, helping us to reflect on our own faith. 

 

In my mother’s oldest photo album, I see her and my dad walking down the steps of St. Bruno Church in wedding attire with my grandparents nearby along with a bevy of altar boys and smiling bridesmaids and groomsmen. 

 

All four of my grandparents sadly died before I could meet them. My maternal grandmother died young at 51 of a stomach disease. “Momma had a hard life,” my own mother says often. This she did. Grandmomma was born in 1903 in a town whose name means “heaven” in the upper peninsula of Michigan. She never moved far from home. She married at the age of 21 and raised six children on a farm with no electricity or running water. These modern amenities were installed only a few years before her death in 1954. During her life, she built wood fires, baked bread, canned food, scrubbed clothes using a washboard, and braved harsh northern Michigan winters. Doctor visits were a rarity, and she lived with stomach pain for many years. Yet these years were marked by devotion to her Catholic faith. 

 

Her prayer book, with 1888 and 1916 copyrights, is a dear treasure of mine. It is titled, “Manual of Prayers for the Use of the Catholic Laity: The Official Prayer Book of the Catholic Church.” The well-worn black cover is stamped in a fading gold with her maiden name. On the inside front page, she handwrote her married name in its traditional form: “Mrs. George Savoie.” 

 

Mrs. Savoie read of the calendar of feasts, abridgement of the Christian doctrine, morning and evening prayers, Mass, sacraments, and more in the book’s nearly 800 pages. 

 

A four-page pamphlet tucked into the book stands out. “Instructions about Making the Mission,” is hand-dated six months after my mother’s birth. I see her reading these pages by oil lamp as she cradled my infant mother. The pages advise prayer, self-denial, charity, and attention during a period of formation and sacraments called a parish mission. After the mission, she read that she was to be thankful for the blessings of the period and resolve to keep the promises made during the mission. 

 

The prayer book smells to me like roses. I will add to Pope Francis’ metaphor of the relationship between us and our ancestors. The faith of our grandparents and older generations does not end with their deaths. Their faith lingers like the scent of roses. It lingers in their children’s hearts and in their children’s children’s hearts. Whether or not these children live a life of faith, God is there. 

 

The scale of generations is closer to the scale of time measured by God: infinite. Our own time with God is scented by the faith of our ancestors. And our faith will do the same. Though I never met Mrs. George Savoie, I pray for her intercession and for the repose of her soul. In this way, she continues to be my grandmother.