Rose Etta Wade Udint

November 21, 2012 Memorial for
Rose Etta Wade Udint (nee Pugh)
Dec. 30 1906-Dec 23, 1993


According to the liturgical protocol, the homily is not supposed to be about the deceased person.  However, my grandmother’s prayer life and spirituality was an inspiration to me.  It was thanks to her, I was encouraged to read the bible before it was customary for most Catholics to do so. You may wonder about my reasons for having a Catholic memorial service for my Baptist grandmother.  She was catechized by an old Irish Catholic friend of ours and through helping me learn my own catechism as a child.  She watched Bishop Fulton Sheen on television, had statues of Our Lady and the saints.  She firmly believed that “the family that prayed together, stayed together”, and so we prayed the rosary.

Once on a visit home, I asked her why she never became a Catholic and she said simply, “Latin and the music.”  I think if she knew the changes made to the Mass after Vatican II, she would have converted.  I was her last Catholic connection but I moved to Canada in 1965 before the Vatican II changes had come into effect.  In essence, I think my grandmother truly received “Baptism of Desire.”

Rose Etta, my grandmother was born in the southern state of North Carolina at a time when African Americans lived under the ever present yoke of racism and oppression.  Life did not provide the advantages that the dominant society took for granted.  Yet, Rose remained steadfast in her faith and trust in God.  When I had my own experiences of racism, first as a child and later, she would say, “God is our refuge and our strength.  God is our rock and our salvation.  For her, it was not just a convenient aphorism; she said these words with a conviction that only comes from faith.

She could spend what seems like hours in prayer.  Sometimes she would talk to God out loud relating her joys, sorrows and uttering words of praise.  At other times she would hum or softly sing a hymn.  The humming and hymns were often accompanied by tears.  For the most part, however, she sat with God in rapt silence.  In fact, the only time I remember my grandmother being quiet is when she was at prayer.  I remember so clearly her saying, “Be still and know that I am God”, as she settled into silent meditation.


To those who are thirsty I will give drink freely from the spring of the water of life.  This is the rightful inheritance of the overcomers.  I will be their God and they will be my daughters and sons.

My grandmother believed these words.  She believed that to drink of the spring of the water of life was her rightful inheritance.  Her belief did not stem from self-righteousness but from an unshakeable trust in God’s love, mercy and compassion.  My grandfather told me that she was preparing for Christmas and on her knees scrubbing the floors when she, stopped uttered a prayer, and died.  I imagine she was recalling the words of John the Evangelist in the Book of Revelations, “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word.”


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