God Will Too

Good News mediation.
by Matthew Brock, LC | Source:
Every day when I was about six years old, the priest began, I would go over to my grandmother’s house. I have one of those fuzzy ‘first memories’ of a large magnolia tree with giant blossoms. There was a huge sandbox with very grown-up shovels and buckets, and in a little corner, there were my favorite toys – little plastic toy soldiers. One day I took one of those toy soldiers – her soldiers – and reached up and gave it to my grandmother and said something like, This is for you because I love you! Well, a four-year-old can’t love very hard, but my grandmother took that gift of something that was hers anyway, and accepted it with all the love a grandmother can have toward her grandchild. My grandmother kept that toy soldier on her nightstand until the day she died.

The priest was preaching a retreat. He continued. It’s the same with God. We give him, often-times only in our childhood, with our puny ability to love, the small gift of faith that was his to begin with, and he accepts it with the immensity of his love. I want to tell you a story about how God never forgets our early love for him.

I grew up and went off to the seminary, and my siblings, who had been raised Catholic, all went their separate ways. It was the 1970s, and confusion reigned. One of my sisters, whom I’ll call Mary, went off the deep end. She was into free love, free thinking, free everything. She became bitterly anti-religious. Another sister, who I’ll call Peggy, had married a man who turned out to be a manic depressive. They had several kids, and the eldest inherited the disease. When he was twenty-years-old, he went to his bedroom and took his own life. My sister became deeply depressed herself, and turned to alcohol.

Mary was shocked by Peggy’s state. She began praying for her in private, and gradually mellowed in her views toward religion. One day when she was working at a hospital she overheard several doctors having a conversation about the Catholic Church. She didn’t know much about the faith, but she knew enough to know that what they were saying was false. She joined the conversation, but was roundly beaten in argument by the doctors, all experienced Bible-quoters.

That tipped the scales. Mary came to me asking about books defending the faith. She bought the first few apologetics books that I recommended to her, devoured them, and soon had an entire wall of her living room lined with books about Catholicism. Her faith deepened, and she now gives spiritual guidance to a group of women who meet weekly for prayer and Gospel study. God remembered, and brought her home.

My grandmother always remembered the love I had shown her as a small child. God will too.


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