Last year, at the age of 90, my paternal grandmother passed away. A funeral mass was said for her at a church in our hometown in California.
At some point during the mass (perhaps while we were "Our Fathering") the church's side door, off to the side of the lectern, creaked opened and a woman walked in.
This woman was not dressed for an occasion such as a funeral. (Had I left the house dressed the way this woman was that day my Granma would have told me to turn around and put on something decent..) The woman was also carrying a can of Coke.
She made her way to a front-most pew, not already occupied by my entire immediate family, where she began to genuflect and pray. The deacon's eyes nearly popped out of his head and if the priest noticed he sure didn't show it. The priest's voice never wavered and I don't remember seeing him even flinch.
I felt my whole family stiffen then begin to sway ever so slightly in panic and bewilderment. In sheer incredulity at this stranger who just happened to come in and proceed to pray before God and my Granma's ashes.
My hands rested on the back of the pew in front of me. I closed my eyes briefly and I too began to pray:
"Don't move. Just nobody move. Please don't move."
Gradually, I felt my family settle and we returned our focus to the altar but in my peripheral vision I could see the woman continue praying, nothing more than a mumble really. All the while she was seemingly oblivious to our presence but steadfastly held on to her Coke. You have to admire such devotion.
When she was finished she genuflected once more and instead of exiting the way she had come in, she decided to take the scenic route: down the main aisle of the nave, past row after row of my extended family, and out the vestibule. There she was met by the morning sunshine and a quiet weekday sidewalk. Now, finally, everyone at peace.
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