Where Did You Learn That?

My Childhood Home Seemed Large

WHEN I WAS GROWING UP. Of course, I was just a child, and everything seemed large back then –at least in my memory. Our house was two stories, actually three stories if you include the basement –but it was the same as all our neighbors’ homes. These were called “Row Homes,” as they were attached, one to the other nine in a row, separated by an eightinch fire wall. They were narrow and long, with a downstairs (the main floor) where everything seemed to happen, and an upstairs, with three bedrooms and a bathroom. Mathematically and structurally, it was perfect, the nine of us were divided: the four girls in the front room, the four boys in the middle room, and my parents with the baby in the back room. There was an upstairs hallway that spanned from the front room down to the back room, and it was there that our first lessons in prayer took place. At the end of the day, after we had been put to bed, my mother sat in her chair downstairs praying her night prayers in quiet. Upstairs was a different scene: my father walked from one end of the upstairs to the other praying out loud, all the while instructing us in how to pray. His words would become our words, and his prayers became our prayers. We prayed the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Memorare, and a special prayer called, “Take my Body, Jesus.” To this day, almost 70 years in passing, I still say those same prayers every night. I can hear my father’s voice, “Francis, I don’t hear you in there!” But in addition to learning these prayers and having them become second nature to how I would close out my day, I learned that within them I learned how the Blessed Mother was mentioned over and over again. When dad finished those prayers, he walked into the room where on top of the chest of drawers were two statues: one of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and the other of His Blessed Mother. In the dark, I could see him stop before each image and pray some quiet prayer, and then kiss the head of each statue. I knew, and came to appreciate as I grew older, his love for Jesus – but I also learned the prayerful lesson of invoking the name of Mary, our Blessed Mother, at the close of day.

The month of Mary always gives me a reminder of those childhood memories: learning how to pray –but most especially, the importance of Mary to my life – to our lives. And you know, for those of us who do not have these kinds of memories, or practices, it’s never too late to start. Hidden so powerfully in the “Memorare” are the words, “never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession was left unaided.” She has been that for me all my life, thanks to my dad. Now I pass that onto you in this month dedicated to her. Begin to say that prayer along with your spouse, and most importantly, with your children, and experience the powerful, grace-filled presence of our heavenly Mother.