When I look back at my life and look at the pivotal moments there is one 'spiritual event' that is key for me in my understanding of the Catholic faith. I was raised Catholic but not in a particularly pious home; we never said the family rosary for example but were taught our prayers and encouraged to go to weekly Mass and indeed weekly confession. Every summer [in my early teens] I would be sent to my grandparents for one week, which was away out in the countryside about 8 miles from my home. I was especially fond of my maternal grandad Felix who was a very gentle man but had suffered most of his life from ill health [and as a result was unable to work]. He was always good-humoured and never said an unkind word about anyone. A quiet unassuming man. I remember especially that we would walk in the warm evenings along a beautiful country road and I really loved those walks. There was something so peaceful and beautiful about the simplicity of those walks that made such an impression on my young mind. I enjoyed the company of my grandad although he never said too much. I sensed there was something really special about Grandad Felix but could never quite grasp what it was. He used to disappear to his room at 6 o'clock every evening and I thought that he always went for a little rest. One evening I forgot myself and burst into his room 'by accident'[?] There he was kneeling at his bed, rosary beads in his hands that were gripped together in fervent prayer and adoration. I quickly exited at the shout of my grandmother and made an embarrased apology. But I will never forget that image of Grandad Felix on his knees a frail old man worshipping his God. And in that instance I knew why he was different. Here was a simple man filled with God's grace, full of gentleness, compassion, inner peace and love. As 2 + 2 = 4, I knew from that day onwards that prayer makes saints. And I am convinced that grandad Felix was a saint. And I wanted and I want so much to be like him. When we went for walks after that in my young, innocent mind I thought that I was walking with Jesus. He was holy. He really was that close to God. My grandad Felix never once spoke to me about God or faith or prayer but his whole life was a sermon preaching Christ. And I always have that image of him at prayer and that is the 'greatest sermon that I ever heard' for it still speaks and resonates with me some 33 years later. Little did I know that soon those beautiful walks would in a few years come to an end. I was in school [aged 17] when I received the devastating news that Grandad Felix had died from a heart attack aged only 62. I cried and cried so much and I couldn't stop crying as he was so precious to me. I had lost someone so special. But the story did not end with his death because his witness to the love of God and his devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary made such an impression on me. Although I wandered in and out of faith in my later teenage years I am convinced that he continued to interceed in heaven for me. And I believe that the wonderful gift of faith that I now possess is a fruit of his intercession. He and I are closer now than ever as we both live in communion with Christ. I look forward so much one day meeting him in the Spirit - I have a feeling that when I die that he will be the first relation that I will see. And what will I say? 'Grandad, I love you so much; let's go for a walk' Garabandal
What better could we say, at the evening of life than that our life had been a sermon to some one younger?
Thank you. Garabandal, Great testimony! We are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses, indeed (Heb12)! Praise God when we have known some of them, personally! Safe in the Hearts of Jesus and Mary!
Padraig, I was going to post the Matt Talbot picture that you added [but I am not sure of how to put a picture on the post!] as it always reminds me of my grandad who was quite frail like Matt and the contemplation in his face is beautiful. Thankyou
I heard a nice story about Matt Talbot. A group of Jesuits were sitting talking about the the holiest people they had met in their lives. Finally one old Jesuit spoke up. 'I know one old man in Dublin who speaks with Our Blessed Lady on a regular basis.' The group of priests fell silent. It was only years later they realised it must have been Matt Talbot he was talking about as the old priest was his regular confessor.
I must invoke the intercession of Matt Talbot more for my brother-in-law Cearan as he is still drinking. Not only did Matt Talbot give up drink he committed himself to a daily regime of prayer and penance that sanctified his very life. He became a very holy person by all accounts.
He was a great saint, I believe. Very Irish in his love for fasting, penance, the mass and devotion to Our Blessed Mother. I often suspect Mary as a great love for the little ones and Matt was very little.
