STEWARDSHIP—LIVING CHRISTIANITY [ RADICALLY]

New World Articles

12-07-03

Childhood memories give mature sense to faith

By Anne Marie Tirpak contributor

St. Nicholas Day evokes memories of my childhood Mary Jane shoes filled with delights bestowed by St. Nicholas, aka my beloved parents. I awoke eagerly each Dec. 6 with anticipation.
Today I know that each day is filled with a flurry of gifts … all right at my feet. I know I don’t always appreciate these blessings—certainly not with childhood’s anticipation and excitement. Have my life’s gifts become something I feel entitled to instead of hopeful for? In a life of profound surplus, my vision has been admittedly clouded.
I may have seen the light, however.
Thanksgiving and Advent remind me to be grateful for the abundance in my life and to prepare prayerfully for a gift too big to fit in a shoe, too large to remain contained in a manger.
As I prepared the house for Thanksgiving and set the table, I reflected upon the times I did this for my late grandmothers and savored some of my life’s greatest gifts. Grandma and Grandpa Tirpak and Grandma Chambers embody, for me, all that I think God hopes for each of us: lives bursting with love, beauty, blessings, relationships.
I recalled Grandma Tirpak’s fine blue dress, “Estee” perfume, “VO5”-ed hair always done the day before but combed out to be “just right.” I remembered being enveloped by her as she squeezed me tight, showered me with kisses and looked into my eyes asking, “How’s my Annie?”
I recalled sleepovers and trips to K-Mart for new pajamas, candy and my favorite (and parent-forbidden) sugar cereal. I fondly remembered playing “Old Maid” (and Grandma letting me win) after a bath in the pink bathroom with the pink Dove soap. My belly remembered the cold milk and homemade tollhouse cookies I delighted in before being tucked into bed. And I agonizingly remembered being awakened on Sunday mornings, outfitted in tights, fancy dress and shiny black patent leather shoes to arrive tooooo early for Mass at St. Mary’s Byzantine Church. I recalled the incense, the Byzantine liturgy and the $1 or $2 Grandpa gave me to put in the collection.
I also remember preparing for celebrations at Grandma Chambers’ house, dusting the bottom rungs of the dining room table and chairs (though I never liked that job) and setting the fine china and Waterford glasses.
I reflected upon Grandma’s amazing trust in God and her caring and faithful presence, from my littlest days, learning how to bake, to my post-college days, asking the meaning of life and what I should do with mine. From the most elegant holiday celebrations, to the daily lunches shared while in grade school, to the spots of tea or bee-infested picnics or drives to the grocery, the show, or the sale—Grandma shared wisdom, elegance and an unwavering faith in God.
My Thanksgiving provided an opportunity to reflect on God’s love for me exemplified by the people in my life. Although my grandparents are deceased, I cherish our memories and know that they remain very much alive in my heart. I smile as I see my own parents loving my nieces the way my grandparents loved me and giggle thinking about my nieces’ excitement when they opened their gifts of pajamas and robes last Christmas.
I begin this Advent differently. Maybe it comes with my own maturity, but I hope to never forget the abundance present in my history and my everyday. I am thankful for the nudge of Thanksgiving and the memories of St. Nicholas Day and Christmases past to bask in God’s love for me. I now understand Eucharist—“little thanksgivings.” My adult-size Mary Janes are overflowing; there is much to share.

Tirpak is vicariate stewardship coordinator for the Archdiocese of Chicago. She can be reached at (312) 534-7713 or atirpak@archchicago.org.