I am almost finished the altered book art journal I’ve been creating with the Prayer Cards my mother left behind when she departed this earthly plain in February.
It has been a sacred journey of great healing. Of appreciation. Acceptance. Growth. Love.
As I created this page in the journal, my heart full of memories from my recent trip to visit my grandchildren in Vancouver, I thought about my mother and how, when she learned her great-granddaughter would be named Ivy, after her mother, she took my daughter’s hands and held them as tightly as her crippled fingers would allow and whispered, “Thank you.” Her prayers were answered.
My mother never got to meet her great-granddaughter who was born in June, but I know that where ever she is, she continues to pray for everyone just as she did throughout her life, never doubting her prayers would be answered.
The words that appeared for this page are: “Her prayers gave her strength to have faith in darkness and in light.”
It didn’t matter what path my mother was on, what fork in the road appeared before her, or what obstacle blocked her way, she always prayed. To God and Jesus and Mother Mary and all the Saints, asking for their interventions to guide her, protect her, save her and those she loved.
Faith was embedded in her DNA, stretching across time and space, spanning the past through the connective tissues that carried her into the future.
Faith was her way. Prayer was the song that carried her through life’s travails, its glories and tragedies, its beauty and its ugliness.
For my mother, faith held her fast in her belief that God would never let her down. Prayer lifted her up into His everlasting arms of Love.