Sadie’s Rose Petals

On a glorious morning in June of 1999, I was admiring God’s amazing handy work and daydreaming about the warm summer days ahead. The cold gray winter days had faded into spring. Spring had brought forth the colors of life and rebirth.  Roses and all the glorious summer flowers were just bursting into bloom. I was enjoying the fruits of my labors by sitting in my small patio garden and planning for the summer months ahead. Pictures of the family gatherings and outdoor summer BBQ’s were dancing in my head.

The ringing sound of my telephone would change those thoughts in an instant. Never in my wildest imaginings, could I have envisioned how very differently that summer would be. It would begin a family journey of great trials.  A journey that would be filled with fear, heartache, and tears that none of us could have foreseen on that early summer morn.

As I strolled into the kitchen to quickly catch the phone call, I had expected a cheery greeting on the other end. Immediately though, I knew by the sound of my Aunt Dories voice, something was very much amiss. Her voice was tense from struggling to control her tears. She quickly explained that her daughter (my cousin Terry) was on the way to a Trauma hospital. Her sixteen-year-old son Kelly had been in a terrible car accident. He had flat lined several times on the way to the first hospital they took him to. Their parish priest had jumped in the ambulance as it sped away. He had given Kelly the last rites. It was touch and go as to whether Kelly would survive. With a quick goodbye, we began a summer’s journey, which would take us over roads we never would have planned to travel. Roads, which would stretch our faith to the maximum and then some.

 In the days and weeks following the accident, Kelly remained in serious condition. In July they moved him to the “Children’s Hospital” in Denver, CO. Kelly was still in coma, but in Denver he was close to a larger part of our extensive family. Terry’s brothers and sisters all live there. It helped ease the burden somewhat. Terry and Dwaine (Kelly’s parents) had a large support base to help out with Kelly’s care and the hospital visits.  Terry’s sister Pam, and her family were a large part of the support team caring for Kelly. Pam’s little daughter Sadie was the littlest Prayer warrior for her cousin Kelly.  She and Kelly were very close, and even though Sadie was only six, Kelly had always been her hero.

 Through all the weeks of Kelly’s remaining in coma, Sadie made it her project to pray to her favorite saint, “St. Theresa the Little Flower.” Sadie was adamant that Saint Theresa would gain a miracle for Kelly. She knew her cousin would be well again, because she said; “St Theresa had told her so.” In return, Sadie had promised God that she too would help the missions, just like Theresa had always wanted to. We were all amused at her Mission fervor and her faithfulness to prayer.

 Sadie’s vigilance paid off. In late July, Kelly came out of coma and made remarkable progress.  We were all relieved and elated of course. As for Sadie, she took it in her usual stride. After all, St. Theresa had told her it would all be just fine.

In August, just as things were beginning to look up, another tragedy struck. My son Randy was in a car accident and also seriously injured. Again our family circle gathered in prayers and support for one another. Sadie’s “St Theresa” was our prayer companion as well. Sadie’s beloved Saint Theresa was again listening to Sadie’s childlike prayer it seemed. The last week of September it appeared as though our worlds were finally coming back to normal once again. Kelly was home and in rehab and progressing quite well. Randy was completely well and life looked wonderful again.

No one gave much thought to the minor surgery coming up for Sadie. It was just a routine Tonsillectomy so the family prayer chain just said a little prayer. We giggled at how Sadie was so brave and said St Theresa was going to make sure she could eat French Fries when she got home from the hospital. She wasn’t very happy that she would have to wait several days for the Fries, but she did like the fact she got ice cream whenever she wanted it.  The surgery was on Monday morning and she was home by that afternoon. Sadie, was just one of those children that nothing seemed to phase much. She could entertain herself for hours talking to her imaginary friends, to Saint Theresa and to Jesus.

 The following Friday began with a check-up at the doctor’s office. After that, Pam and the girls (Sadie and her sister Laney) went shopping. Pam and the girls kept finding Rose Petals on every aisle they turned into in the store. No one seemed to know where they came from. Sadie took it in stride as only a six year old can…She was sure St. Theresa had sent her Rose Petal’s for being such a good patient and dutifully not eating any French Fries when they had stopped for lunch before going back home.

 Friday night, the girls played until bedtime in their playroom. Sadie drew pictures for her Mommy and Daddy. They were the kind of children’s art, which all parents know are better than any the artist Picasso could ever create. At bedtime, Glenn and Pam listened to the girls say their nighttime prayers and everyone dutifully let Sadie say her favorite prayers to Saint Theresa and to her guardian angel. All in all, the day had been quite ordinary, except for the mysterious Rose Petals.

 At the time, I was in Marytown, IL at the retreat center. I was on a pilgrimage to offer our thanksgiving for God’s marvelous mercy and answer to our prayers that summer. From place to place in my travels I also kept finding mysterious showers of Rose Petals. On the Feast of St. Theresa, I attended a special Memorial Mass for her Feast Day. I was in awe that I was the only one allowed to take a picture of the statue. It is very old and precious, so cameras are not allowed. As I snapped the picture I found a shower of Rose Petals at my feet once again. I decided it must be a picture meant for Sadie. St. Theresa would want me to give it to her I was quite sure.

 Just as I came in the door from the airport on Sunday morning, my husband told me I needed to call my Aunt Dorie. By the way he quickly turned away with tears in his eyes, I knew something was very wrong.

With my heart in my throat, I quickly dialed the number; all the while thinking Kelly must have had another crisis. Instead, my Aunt delivered the terrible news that our little prayer warrior Sadie had died. Sadie’s scab had come off during the night and she had hemorrhaged to death. Pam found her on Saturday morning, when she went to wake her up for breakfast. Sadie was covered with blood and so was her room. It appeared she had tried to get out of bed and get to her parents in her last moments of struggling for life. But the hemorrhage was so massive; she never made it out of the room.

 Through the days that followed, we all clung to Sadie’s beloved St. Theresa to give us comfort. Losing a child is a nightmare beyond belief. Losing a child so unexpectedly has got to be even worse. For the first week Pam and Glenn were not allowed to make arrangements to bury Sadie. The police cordoned off the house as though it were a crime scene. It took and autopsy and the doctor’s surgical records to get the body released for burial. The doctor had accidentally cut the carotid artery during surgery and lasered it shut, along with the normal wound of a tonsillectomy. The doctor never mentioned the mistake that she had made during surgery. A mistake, which would take my family to our knees once more in prayer. This time the prayer was one of grief with out the hope of physical healing. They were prayers of anguish and heartbreak. We had no ability to even ask…”Why God? Why Sadie?” Although I know we all must have thought it from time to time. Sadie, ever the faithful prayer warrior would not have been pleased if we had.

 As if to punctuate Sadie’s happiness and trust in God, my Aunt found a seemingly heaven sent sign, while cleaning up the playroom before the funeral. There on the play table was Sadie’s last drawing she did of herself. She drew herself with angel wings. It was covered with those same mysterious Rose Petals and it was signed; “Sadie – I am so happy. Jesus Loves Me!”

 In the end, we have suffered and we have been blessed. We have grieved and we have mourned…but we know nonetheless, that Sadie is safe and warm. Sadie is enjoying the vision only she could see when she gave us the courage of her little prayers for our family members in need. As Pam and Glenn testified at the rosary vigil the night before the funeral…”She was ours but for a little while. God gave her to us on loan. He gave us a beautiful child to return to Him as a saint, when she was finished with her mission. The mission she accomplished much too soon for any of us. We are now the family of a Saint.”  For this we shall all continue to “Thank God.” Sadie’s mission in this life has blessed us all.

 

copyrighted 2006

A Brothers Love

War, is never easy nor without great cost for those who serve and their families. In 1967, both of my brothers were in Vietnam. Mike, the youngest of my brothers, had joined the Marines rather than waiting to be drafted. My older brother Bill re-enlisted to serve, not so much country as to watch out for our younger brother Mike.  

It all began early one spring morning in 1967, when my parents received a telegram from the state department, which reported that my younger brother Michael was missing in action in Vietnam. Another telegram stating that Mike had been located, but was in critical condition followed this. Shortly thereafter, a Marine officer and a chaplain arrived on my parent’s doorstep to inform us that Mike had perished from his wounds.  

For the next twenty-four hours, our world was turned upside down. The phone lines across the country began buzzing with the news and the need to make arrangements to fly home. My oldest brother Bill was in College Station, Texas attending Texas A & M University. Bill had served his time in the Marines and was in his second year working on his degree to become an Engineer. Early the following day, my parents received a call from Japan. A call which was from my brother Mike, stating that his death was a clerical error and that he was very much alive and on the mend. He would soon be returning to the war front, when his wounds healed.  

It was at this point that my older brother Bill decided to put college on hold and rejoin the Marines. He asked for duty in Vietnam to be with my younger brother Mike. His hope was to convince Mike to file for a transfer under the Sullivan ruling. A ruling which, allows military family members to ask for relief from hazardous duty if more than one family member is serving in the War zone. 

Bill wanted Mike in a safer place- out of harms way- while he served in Vietnam himself. Bill had always looked out for his younger siblings, and he was determined to do so again. Of course, Mike would have no part of it. He was determined to stay the course and finish his tour of duty. Even though Bill could not persuade Mike to leave Nam, Bill decided to go forward with his re-enlistment so that they could at least be close to one another and he could watch out for our younger brother Mike.  

The last thing my father did on the day Bill was to leave for retraining was to make sure Bill was wearing his Sacred Heart Badge. My parents had always had a special devotion to the “Sacred Heart of Christ.” They had all of us children consecrated when we were still babies. As a family tradition, we all attended the Mass in honor of the “First Friday Devotions” that were given to Saint Margaret Mary Aloque.  

Dad handed Bill his own Sacred Heart Badge just before Bill walked out the door and said: “Son, it might not stop a bullet, but it can keep you safe along the way. Just remember, it is only as good as the faith you put with it. If you wear it as a scrap of material and you don’t follow Christ, it will be no help at all. Remember what is important…”Trust Christ” and follow Him. He will get you safely home. That is all the protection you really need.”  With that last bit of spiritual advice from my father, Bill left for boot camp wearing his Banner of Christ, Dad’s “Sacred Heart Badge.” 

After retraining Bill landed in Vietnam on August the 21^st. Sadly, the very day that Bill arrived in Vietnam, our brother Mike was again wounded and this time his wounds were much more serious. A land mine struck his amphibious mobile unit and Mike was badly burned in the explosion. Bill managed to track Mike down in a hospital in Dong Hoa within a couple of days of his arrival.  Unfortunately, because Mike’s wounds were serious and infection was a danger, Bill was not allowed in to see Mike before the Medic’s transported Mike for treatment. All Bill could do was stand outside Mike’s room and say a quick prayer for Mike’s recovery and then report for his own duty station in Da Nang.  

In order not to worry the rest of us, Bill wrote letters home to us in Ogallala, telling us that he was assigned to an officer in Da Nang as a clerk. He jokingly referred to his great quest to serve as being reduced to shuffling papers. That was our Bill –always protecting others from worry or fear. His ploy worked, and we believed that he was fairly safe in Da Nang. We focused our worry and prayers on our little brother Mike and his need for healing and support during his recovery. Bill seemed to be safe and we were grateful for that. All that would soon change in an instant. 

On September the 28^th, the Marines again paid a visit to my parent’s home. This time there would be no follow-up phone call saying that it was a mistake. The Marines reported that on September 21^st, while on patrol, Bill’s entire unit was caught in an ambush. They were trapped in a crossfire of rocket and mortar fire. Bill managed to survive long enough for another unit to find him. Bill had received the last rites and was able to make his last confession before he expired from his wounds. Bill’s Sacred Heart Badge was enclosed with the letter.  

Even deep in the Jungles of Vietnam… “Christ kept His Sacred Heart Promise and came to take our Bill safely home.
 I promise you in the excessive mercy of my Heart that my all-powerful love will grant to all those who receive Holy Communion on the First Fridays in nine consecutive months the grace of final perseverance; they shall not die in my disgrace, nor without receiving their sacraments. My divine Heart shall be their safe refuge in this last moment."

“John 15:12,13 " Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."

Post script. Many years after I wrote this story I was tracked down by 2/4 Marines who survived the attack and it's wonderful to be part of their lives

Copyrighted 2005

 

 

 

Loathing at First Sight

September 5th would have been our 50th Wedding Anniversary. Miss my wonderful Gene especially at this time of year. This story was published in Chicken Soup "True Love" in 2009

Looking at our wedding pictures always makes me giggle. I recall the young man that my brother brought home to dinner one night well over 47 years ago. It was not what one could call love at first sight. It was more like loathing at first sight. The first time I had met him was a few weeks earlier. It all began with a phone call to my high school principles office. I was a senior in High School at the time. I worked after schools at a local restaurant, as part of our school work credit program. 

This particular day, I was not scheduled to work, but Mrs. K (the owner) had called and left a message with the office that I would have to take another waitress’s place. Mrs. K was not the nicest person in the world to work for to say the least. She never asked if I was available, she just said in her message to “be there at 4:00 PM.” Since not showing up would affect my grades for graduation, there was no way I could wiggle out of the unplanned shift.   In those days, we had no cell phones, so in an emergency you had to use a payphone, if you could find one. My mother was quite the task master herself, and I found myself caught in a bit of a pickle. My mother expected me to be home immediately after school, to start dinner for our family. I tried to call my Mom at her work place, from the school office to tell her of the change in plans but was not able to reach her. Unfortunately there was no such technology as voice mail in those days. There was no way my Mom would just let it slide if she did not know of the change in my work schedule. I could count on being grounded no matter how good the excuse was, if I did not get my message through to her. All of these circumstances set up a meeting which would change the course of my life.

I had to stop for gas to make it to work and try to call her again from the gas station. Mrs. K never allowed employees to use the phone while on duty and I knew she would not budge on her rules, even though she was the one who had created the situation. Rushing out of school, I careened out of the parking lot as fast as my old “49” Ford would travel, praying the “E” for empty meant I had enough gas fumes to make it to the filling station. For emergencies, my Dad had an account at the local Shell station, where I could sign for gas, and Ed (the owner), would bill my Dad later.

Breathing a sigh of relieve, that I had made it to the Shell station without running out of gas on the roadside, I was surprised to see a total stranger running the gas station instead of Ed. The young man was quite a flirt, and took his time putting the gas in the tank, washing the windshield, checking the oil etc. I tried my best to get the young man to just put the gas in the tank and forget the other routine services, but he just kept on trying to impress me. I tried to be polite, but flirting with a strange guy was the last thing on my mind. He was seriously threatening my job and my big date for the Sweetheart dance the following day if I got grounded. After wasting several precious minutes filling the tank and trying to gain my interest, I finally told him: “Look sir, I am in a big hurry. I have to get to work. Now please put the gas on my Dads credit line in Ed’s book.” Naturally this lead to more delays as he insisted he had no idea where such a book would be or how to do it, so I had to go inside and find it behind the counter for him. I was beginning to think he wasn’t very bright. It was a red ledger, exactly where I told him he would find it, right beside the cash register.

My next big mistake was in asking him to give me a dime for the payphone, and put that on the ledger charge too. Good grief! He then began to lecture me about taking money from a stranger and other various nonsense. By that time I was furious and stomped out hurrying to get to work, and decided to try and talk Mrs. K into letting me use the phone at work. Naturally, with all the time wasted at the filling station, I was late to work and Mrs. K refused my request to use the phone. Not only that she also said I had to stay late and do clean up duty to boot. By the time I got home at mid-night my mom was fit to be tied and as I had feared I was “GROUNDED.” At this point I felt my whole world caved in all because of a rude stranger who had ruined my life. I hoped I never would lay eyes on him again.

 As luck would have it, a few weeks later, my Mom called me at school and asked me to pick up an extra pound of hamburger as we were having a guest for dinner. Sounded normal to me, so I was totally un-prepared that evening when my brother walked in the door with his new friend named Gene that he had met at the gas station. I wanted to hide in the kitchen as I was still so angry at him, but manners precluded my doing so. My mother would not allow it.

By the time the meal was over, the young man apologized for all the trouble he had caused me and he became a regular visitor in our home. When time for the Prom came, my boyfriend and I had broken up, so Gene offered to be my date. From there a loathing at first sight became a love story which resulted in 41 very happy years of marriage and three beautiful children. Obviously, I decided he wasn’t so bad after all.

       Copyrighted 2005