Love, The Test Of Life

She Loved Easter the Best

My sweet Irish mother was born and raised in Dublin (in a small Victorian row house with nine other siblings) and she loved Easter the best. For her, it was the crowning season. With a heart full of joyful praise, a home decorated with fresh flowers, and her family around her, it was a season to be celebrated. No matter what the challenges the adjoining weeks might hold. (And there were lots of them, but the resurrection of the Lord soared high above such troubled times.)

My sweet mother also had a red headed Irish temper and it burned especially hot in her early years. I used to joke with her that in my eyes she was a Gaelic saint and she would respond with some measured regret, “I wasn’t always a saint.” No, Mom, not always a saint, but I saw your heart humming with love.

Her disposition of love reminded me of a few lines from Evelyn Underhill when she mused upon St. John of the Cross:

When the evening of this life comes,” says St. John of the Cross, “you will be judged on love.” The only question asked about the soul’s use of its house and the gifts that were made to it will be: “Have you loved well?” All else will be resumed in this; all thoughts, beliefs, desires, struggles and achievements, all complex activities…For faith is nothing unless it be the obscure vision of a loved Reality; and Hope is nothing unless it be the confidence of perfect love.

Yes, my petite Irish mother displayed her faith by “loving well.” And we were close enough to enjoy the spillover from her Celtic chalice. Indeed, in my eyes Easter brought out the best of her.