Grace, there is always grace

Much peace, joy and grace to all my friends who are keeping my extended family in prayer as my father's youngest brother Peter struggles in his fight with brain cancer. That all this is coming to pass during the Easter octave certainly puts us all on the line to witness to our faith in the Resurrection.


Peter is just 47 and by design actually came into the world 3 mos after his first niece, my oldest sister Colleen. Growing up, when we went to visit at Grandma's, it was a great opportunity for us 4 sisters to have a boy in the family. Hours upon hours were spent in the semi- finished basement playing floor hockey, fooseball, and air hockey. We were often wandering the barns, feeding and petting my aunt's horses. Literally days were spent in the woods of the park preserve adjacent to the property, building forts of the fallen trees. And then of course there was following Notre Dame sports and listening to the famous recording of Knute's "win one for the Gipper speech". Hanging out in a BOYS bedroom with athletic pennants and sports paraphanalia.

Always dubbed "The Prince" by his older siblings, Peter is a gifted athlete. And I was blessed to watch many of his XC races with my father. To this day, while I love the precision of track running and the assurance of just how far you have run on a steady course; my days watching XC in Genesse Valley Park amid the changing foliage and runners with strides of gazelles is where my heart for running lies. But I am just one of many people Peter infected with a genuine love for running. Besides progressing to running marathons in a mere 2.5 hours, Peter has coached high school runners and is the cofounder of the Harriers, an upstate NY running club. To say Upstate NY and running in the same sentence without Peter Glavin would be a serious error. Yes, certainly Peter answered the charge to find his light and put it on the mountaintop for all to see. So many are indebted to him not only for the encouragement and coaching in running, but for the life lesson of finding your strengths, working them and then sharing them.

While I will never be the athlete that Peter is, those days in the cool fall air, watching him naturally move through space, gave me the courage to run myself --  putting one foot in front of the other. And it wasn't long before that left, right, left was not only down a running trail, but across a parade deck having been granted what I still deem the greatest accolade this side of Heaven - the title Marine. No one would have ever expected that the girl with the ballet and piano lessons, who hung out in the back line of the chorus in a bunch of school plays would end up serving in the warrior class. But every miracle has its grace- filled seeded moments where the seemingly ordinary becomes extraordinary. And I'm sure that is what happened one fall afternoon standing on the sloping green watching my fair haired uncle/cousin/brother move seemingly effortlessly through space and time. The grace to say,"why not?" The grace to say "I can try."

Even now, as it appears that Peter is in the homestretch of this great race we call life, and that crossing the finish line is filled with much physical pain, suffering, and yes, grief; there are still those extraordinary grace filled moments. I am convinced they are true gifts to remind us all of the power of grace and hope.

Last night, lying next to Christopher (7) as I listened to his night prayers, the child classed as autistic, supposed to be MR, lacking in speech and social skills told me what was on his mind.

"Mommy can we make a prayer for Peter?"
"Why of course we can."
 "Good. We need the doctors to find Peter a new medicine to stop the cancer."
"Well, Christopher, they tried, but they have no more medicines."
"So they are giving up, Mommy? But we are never supposed to give up!"
 "Yes, Christopher, but that doesn't mean we can't keep praying for a miracle."

Very long pause.

"Mommy, is Peter going to go to heaven soon?"
 "Yes, Christopher, he will."
"Will he have to go to the cemetery? What kind of shape will he have?"
 "Yes, Christopher when we bury someone, we put a headstone."
 "Peter's will have a cross, right Mommy?"
"Yes, Christopher, it probably will."

Another very long pause.

"So Peter is going to rise again from the dead, like Jesus."
 "Yes, but not in 3 days, Christopher. Our souls can go to heaven, but our bodies stay here until Jesus comes back again."
"Okay. Nite Mommy."


Another gift of grace.
Thank you, God.
 
Thank you, Peter.