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.”
Comments