Remembering Zora Anderson - A Happy Heart

Today, September thirteenth, would have been my mother's eightieth birthday. Mom used to tell me that none of her siblings had lived to be eighty - she was the youngest - the only one still alive since her older sisters had died. Mom wanted to reach the age of eighty, but it was not to be. She died last November 12, after suffering a heart attack earlier in the day.
Above, 1999, my Mom (in the middle) with two of her sisters, the last of the Anderson clan.

My mother's last forty years were years of hard penance. She was a devout Catholic, and she wanted to do her penance on earth. She lived on very little, suffered many hardships, and never asked for anything. For ten years she went without most of the comforts we take for granted, like running water, electricity, food, and adequate heat. She was steadfast about living on the property she was raised on; a fifty six and a half acre piece of land that bordered the Slocan River. The old cabin her family shared was barely standing, and for a while Mom just camped out there. The property was beautiful - tranquil and isolated - the perfect place for contemplative prayer. But there was no home to live in, so she just made do until one day we, her children, showed up with a trailer that became her home.


Above, the remnants of the old log cabin my Mom's family lived in. My Mom is on the left.

Mom relished her solitude and worked hard at establishing gardens and planting flowers to pretty the place up. She offered everything to the Lord; this I know because I have kept her many letters that she wrote over the years. Her faith never ceases to amaze me. It pleased her to give away whatever she could, even though she had very little to give. I always think of Mom when the priest reads the passage of the Widow's Mite from the Gospel of Mark. Like the poor widow, Mom's gifts were humble and quiet; she wanted no earthly rewards, and was not concerned with pleasing man.

After my mother died, I had Gregorian Masses said for her at Clear Creek Monastary. Please say a prayer for her soul today. She was always pleased to know that others were praying for her. This last picture of my mother was when she was seventeen, holding one of her nephews.


A Happy Heart (written by Zora Anderson a week before she died)

"I love having a happy heart.
When I have a miserable day,
I can still pray for a happy heart.
When I am having a good day,
I enjoy it with a happy heart.
Whether my day is good,
or whether it is miserable,
I can still have a happy heart."

Family matters

Thanks to all those who answered my call for prayers for my mother. We are still in Nelson spending time with family, and will be heading home on Saturday. It appears my Mom will be in the hospital for a few weeks, then the doctor has suggested long-term care. He thinks it will be too hard for my sister to keep caring for Mom at home. I really don't like the idea of long- term care; I think it is the duty of the children to look after their parents when they are old; it is simply the reversal of the role they played in our lives as young children and teenagers.

The ideal situation would be for family members to share this undertaking and help out where they can, but we all live in different cities, which means whoever decides to be the caregiver will be doing it alone. My youngest sister has taken on this responsibility since last fall, but the doctor feels that with three young children to care for, taking on the role of primary caregiver for Mom will be too much for her. He is also worried that Mom's weakened immune system will be compromised around young children.

For those of us who hold down full time jobs, providing full time care can be a real challenge, and since Mom will need to have someone there to assist her with most of her needs, she can't be left alone for long periods of time. I would like to see if I can arrange things so that when she is ready to leave the hospital, she could come home with me. I do not want to see my mother go into a care home - she had 10 children, seven of whom are possibly capable of taking her in. I can't imagine what it would feel like to be in that situation - knowing you have all these children and no one to look after you when you need it most.

I know my siblings share that same sentiment, and none of us want to see Mom in a care home. That's what big Catholic families are for - to be there for each other.

Say a little prayer

My mom is in the hospital again with pneumonia, and she is very weak. I graciously ask everyone who read this post to say a little prayer for her, maybe the Chaplet of Divine Mercy? My mother is nearing the end of her life, and she has lived a life of austerity, prayer and hard penance that the saints would approve of. She has always willingly gone without, and endured many hardships that most of us comfort-seekers would shy away from in a heartbeat. She is the reason I am still Catholic.

My mother raised all ten of her children Catholic, and even though each and every one of us fell away from our Catholic faith in our teenage years, she never waivered in hers. She just quietly went to Mass and prayed for all of us. As long as I can remember, she always had Rosaries around the house. From an early age, she planted the seeds of Catholicism in each of us, and now all but three of my siblings have come back to the Church. I credit my mother with giving me a strong foundation of faith, and I have thanked her for bringing me up Catholic. There is no greater grace than to be born and baptized into a Catholic family. I am so thankful to be Catholic.

Yesterday, my sister told me an amazing story that I want to share with you.

My sister and my sister-in-law were at my mom's bedside in the hospital when the nurse came in to change her IV bag. As the nurse was getting ready to hook up the new bag, my mom said to her, "You better check that bag. It's written on the wall."

My sister said they all looked at each other and at the wall to see nothing written there. Then the nurse checked the IV bag. It was the wrong one. She was about to administer the wrong solution! My sister asked Mom how she knew it was the wrong solution, and my mom just told her that it was written on the wall.

I believe it was Divine intervention.