April 6, 2018 at 1:53 p.m.
REFLECTION
Traditions, uncles and saviors
Over the years, I've enjoyed visiting Mike's extended family in Rochester, who live within 20 minutes of each other. Each time we arrive, there is an instant party.
My in-laws call me "Berni-Honey," pronounced, "Berni-Huuhny." Although I have known these folks for 33 years, they only see me at holidays when my clothes match, my patience with our boys is unlimited and I have a perpetual smile on my face. They don't know the real Bernadette who has arrived at work wearing one brown and one black shoe, who has often lost her temper while raising four sons and who has "Chicken Little" tendencies, worrying about the sky falling.
This past week, my uncle, Brother Gabriel Healy, FSC, passed away at De La Salle Hall in Lincroft, New Jersey. He was 83 years old. Tomorrow, we will be traveling to Lincroft for his funeral. I can only imagine the accolades I will hear from his former students, friends and family members attending the services.
With a bright and adventurous spirit, he joined the Christian Brothers when he was only 12 and a half years old. He was so handsome that the day he left the South Bronx to head off to join the brothers, the girls on the block cried because none of them would be able to marry him.
I could go on and on about my uncle's accomplishments in education, administration, campus ministry and retreat work, but he wouldn't want that. His greatest gift to this world was the way he made people feel: accepted and incredibly special to him. (Although I never told anyone this, throughout my entire life, I was convinced that I was his favorite niece and one of his best friends.)
In 1991, the Christian Brothers arranged a party to celebrate my uncle's 50th anniversary as a Christian Brother. There was a young priest at the party who had just returned from a meeting with Mother Teresa. During the evening, I introduced myself and quietly asked him what it was like to be near Mother Teresa. Discerningly, he gazed at me and said, "There was a presence around her that I could feel."
Every year at Christmastime, we are reminded that God sent His Son into the world to redeem us so we could stand in His presence and feel His love. Could the unique affirmation that my uncle shared be the same palpable love Mother Teresa emanated? Maybe God is calling us to come to Him and bring others along, just as we are - even if we've messed up big time and our socks don't match our shirt.
I hope it never occurs to the boys to protest our Christmas trip to Rochester. I can hardly wait to walk through the door with a smile on my face and hear, "Oh! Merry Christmas, Berni-huuhny! Don't you look pretty?"
(Mrs. Bonanno lives in Colonie and attends St. Mary's parish in Albany.)[[In-content Ad]]
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