The Bewildering Path of Faith, Unravelled

(A reprint from Goanet-Femnet, Issue 61, June 2017)

The dictionary defines faith as “a belief in a religious doctrine” or “a system of religious belief”. But how does one obtain this belief? Truly obtain it? My revelation was a simple one.As a child, the recitation of the Rosary was an obligation that could not be avoided under any circumstance. Fear of “the stick”, administered by our mother, was the forced impetus that dragged us to daily prayer. I must mention here that the Rosary, blessed by every man-of-the-cloth our mother ever came across, was the weapon of choice against the snares and evils of the world. The problem with nightly Rosary-according-to-Mom was that her prayers didn't just involve the customary five decades and closing Hail Holy Queen. Rather, it included litany upon litany dedicated to every relative, dead or yet to die, every saint anointed, or yet to be anointed! Ours wasn't merely Rosary “hour”; ours was Rosary “hours upon end”! We would start out on our knees, but as the tedium of litanies progressed, our rear ends would gradually drop onto our haunches as we incoherently mumbled out responses, subsequently inviting the application of the aforementioned “stick”.As time went by, Mom's faith in her Rosary grew rather than diminished. She prayed with a fervour and belief that was beyond my understanding and my patience.

Then, at 87 years came the onset of dementia. I was tasked with finding a nursing home where Mom would be suitably cared for. The process was an onerous one, and Mom added to the problem by insisting that she would only contemplate accepting residency at the specific facility where she had engaged in years of voluntary work. I explained that this was an uphill undertaking, waitlists for preferred homes being lengthy, and one must accept that which comes first. My pushback was always met with her immortal words, “Blessed Mother will provide”. Then a miracle occurred. Barely two weeks later we were granted a room at the home of my mother's choice. “Whatever happened to unavailability due to long waitlists that we were told about?” I wondered aloud. Mom's response with blissful acceptance was, “I told you our Blessed Mother would provide”.

In the ensuing years I watched Mom's health deteriorate and wondered if “Blessed Mother” was on a hiatus. It never occurred to me that, through divine intervention, my mother was at peace and suffered no pain, nor the anxieties of every day life. I did ensure

always, however, that she was afforded the opportunity for her daily Rosary recitation. Of course, as the dementia worsened, the prayers were considerably shortened. Left to me, I unashamedly whipped through the bare minimal Rosary. Then, one fateful night

I, for whatever unimaginable reason, decided to stay with her at the nursing home. In the early hours when neither of us could find sleep, I offered to pray the Rosary with her. Later I would always wonder at this mysterious happenstance. As we prayed, I felt her

hands assuming the bluish tinge and coldness of death. I knew the end was near so I held her and told her that she was finally going home. My mother smiled serenely as she nodded her head and closed her eyes. And, in doing so she awarded me her final gift – she revealed to me the mystery and power of her immense faith. As she lived by the Rosary, so had she died.

And now, as I bump along my own difficult journey with cancer, I feel strengthened and empowered as I embrace an unshakable belief in prayer; finally understanding the true measure of faith.

Joan do Rosario was born in Nairobi, Kenya and is a proud ex-student of the iconic Dr. Ribeiro Goan School. She now lives in Toronto, Canada with her husband. She has two daughters and has recently retired to spend time with the new joy of her life, her little grandson, Jude. Having worked for an airline she was afforded the opportunity for extensive travel which she has thoroughly enjoyed.