More value in living flesh and in silver and gold.

My mother knew what people were saying about her in the autumn of her life, she was to some a ‘religious fanatic’ because she attended daily Mass at St. Patrick’s church in Oldham, and then she said the Rosary.  So how do I know?  Simple, she told me.

Her devotion to the Mass and the Blessed Virgin Mary was well known and perhaps she pricked the consciences of a few who didn’t even bother with attending church on Sunday.  She certainly had her faults and for one thing she was a McKenna and that’s dangerous enough for anyone who backs a McKenna into a corner.  I learned later by looking up the clan on the Internet that there’s a probability the McKenna clan is descended from ‘The O’Neil’ the High King of Ireland and they are essentially a clan of Celtic Warriors.  That explained a lot because among the Celts women were also Warriors and in my family the women can be volatile.

I should also mention that after missing him during his Dublin visit, my mother received Holy Communion from this guy during his visit to Manchester.  She also sat with the VIPs during the Mass.

I learned from a local doctor that while he and another man from St. Michael’s church were with my mother collecting signatures for a pro-life petition a group of pro-abortionist women approached, one wearing a sticker on her coat reading, “Kill, kill, kill!”  That was enough to annoy the Celtic Warrior in my mother, she rushed the pro-abortionist ripped the sticker from her coat and tried to ram it down the woman’s throat while screaming, “Eat your words, eat your words!”  The pro-abortionists bolted!

I was living at home in those days and both I and my brother Kevin were giving my mother money for the shopping etc.  Before the end of the week she would complain that she had no money, so Kevin and I agreed that he would give her something on Monday and I would give her something on Wednesday.  For a while it seemed to work, nevertheless, she was often short of money which seemed to slip through her fingers.

I was leaving St. Patrick’s church after her funeral Mass when I was approached by an elderly gentleman who said that he knew my mother from daily Mass and the Rosary which she often led.  He went on to say that one day he was talking to her and happened to mention that he didn’t know how he was going to pay his heating bill.  My mother asked him how much he needed and after he told her she gave him the money he needed.

My mother had taught me by her example to give living flesh more value than silver or gold, whether it is the unborn child or those in the autumn of their lives.  It’s a valuable lesson and one I hope I have learned well.