Her Faith

My grandma’s faith confronts mine. She doesn’t have this big ambition towards God. She doesn’t believe in Him hoping to get something great out of Him of their relationship. She finds rest in praying her rosary, believing He listens and somehow that’s enough to soothe all her pain. She’s not trying to preach to the world, save thousands for Him, she just hopes to pray another “Our Father”. She’s not out looking for anointing, or platform, or conversion. She just believes, she has enough mind to ask Him to take away the leg pain that torments her without questioning Him if the pain never goes away. She’s not doubtful, she’s not confronting Him, not scared, just a faithful believer of a God she may not completely understand but fully follows. How lovely, such uninterested, unaltered, unfailing love.

That’s who my grandmother was. What a lesson that is. In a world un satisfied with that is given, asking for more constantly and desiring all it feels it deserves, she was happy with her portion. She believed for more and better, but that didn’t stop her from appreciating what she had at the moment.