I believe in prayer

It seems to me that each one’s faith is built on things that happen to them personally, at close range.

For instance, I believe in prayer. It would be wonderful if everyone believed in prayer, but if they don’t, it does not trouble me. God deals with each one of his children in his own unique way.

Even if no one else believed in prayer, I know – I know! – that God listens carefully, and he understands, and he answers, always. I guess the first strong evidence of this, in my own life, was the prayer of my grandmother, Nana. She was really the mother of my mother, but we never called her "Grandma" because we already had a Grandma – my great grandmother, Grandma Roberts.

Nana had six children – three boys: Ern, Joe and Cliff. And three girls – Marguerite, who was my mother; Sue, and Grace. All six of them were very romantic. I guess everyone is very romantic, if you get close enough to know them.

Sue had a good looking, manly boy friend who was a State Trooper in New Jersey. They were going to be married. One morning she gave me a letter to mail. I started out to mail it, but came back with the morning paper, which was at the door. She looked at the headline, and then said to me: "You do not need to mail the letter." And she put her head into her arms, on the table, and wept. The headline said that her State Trooper was killed.

Ern was the successful one, the hard worker. In 1917 he was in the Army, during World War One. Word came to his unit, on Saturday night, that they would leave for France on Monday morning. So on Sunday he brought his girl friend, Christine, who was Protestant, to our parish priest. They asked if they could be married, right there and then.

The parish priest said: "Son, impossible! You want to marry a Protestant. That needs a dispensation. You have to go through all the preliminary investigations. No way could we do it right here, right now!"

So Christine and Ern went to her pastor, who married them at once. Ern went overseas, and Nana began to pray for him. During that year Ern’s close friends were killed all around him – right and left, in front of him and in back of him – but he was never even wounded.

When he came home, everyone expected the Catholic marriage, but Christine said: "No! We were married in my Church. That is a valid wedding. No!" So they were not married in the Catholic Church. They had two sons. When they were visiting in our house, my mother took the two boys and baptized them in our bedrooms without Ern and Christine knowing.

Then Ern fell in love with his secretary, Sissy. My mother said it was because they were not married in the Catholic Church, so he did not have the grace to be a faithful husband. But Sissy was the last one that you would expect Ern to fall in love with! She was a little old maid. God forgive me for saying this, but she wasn’t even pretty!

But Nana went on praying. By this time I was a Jesuit, and Nana would send me stipends, regularly, to have Mass said for Ern. She would say, always: "God will take care of him! God will take care of him!"

Ern would take Sissy to the Jersey Shore on weekends. He had a bungalow there, and a yacht. In spite of all his extra-curricular activities, he was doing very well in business. He was a careful driver. But coming home one Monday morning, there was a slight drizzle. The car began to slide, on a turn. While Ern was fighting to control the car, the front door flew open, and Sissy fell out.

When he had the car under control, he stopped and got out. The rear wheel had caught Sissy’s head between the wheel and the curb, and had taken it right off. Ern stood there in the rain, with the body in his arms, until another car stopped. He never drove again. . . . . But Nana prayed. She said: "Now! Now he will come back to God!"

But Ern did not come back. Eventually he grew very sick, and went into the hospital. My mother brought the priest to him. But Ern said: "I didn’t turn to God when I was well! I’m not going to come crawling to him now!" The priest said: "You can not force the Sacraments down a man’s throat". And the priest went home.

The doctor said: "He will die tonight." So the family lit the candles, and began the prayers for the dying. The prayers ended, but Ern was still breathing. The candles burned out, but Ern was still breathing. This went on for three days. The doctors could not understand it. Ern was supposed to be dead.

Then, suddenly, Ern opened his eyes and said: "Where is that priest?" My mother ran for the priest, who said, later, that it was the most beautiful death bed confession he had ever heard. Ern was married to Christine, in the Catholic Church, there at his deathbed. He was anointed, and received Holy Communion, for the first time in 35 years.

His last words were to Nana, who was kneeling beside his bed. He said: "Now listen, Mom. Don’t you go telling people that I did this for you! I didn’t do it for you, see? I did it because I wanted it!"

Nana said: "Yes, Ern."

And Ern died.

I believe in prayer.

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