"We need Father Rex now! Grandmonny, please call him." These were the dual
cries of my two young granddaughters several years ago when they were visiting
me from Amsterdam, Holland. The girls had learned to know and to love Father Rex
as they spent their summers with me in Colorado.
Indeed, I did phone Father Rex at once to explain that the father of their dear
friend had died. My granddaughters' parents had just called from Amsterdam to
inform me and to ask me to tell the girls. My daughter wanted me to reach Father
Rex to see if he could spend some time in prayer and conversation with the
girls. Without knowing their parents' wish, the girls had made the same request
for Father Rex.
Their friend who had died was Jewish. The father's son had grown up with my
granddaughters from infancy. My girls were in tears and beside themselves in
grief. Their questions to me included: "Will our friend's father go to
heaven? What happens when Jewish people die? Will God take care of them?"
I held my granddaughters close and we prayed. Within 30 minutes, Father Rex
arrived. Both girls ran to him in tears. Father Rex spoke to the girls in soft
and understanding tones. He listened intently to their concerns of grief. The
three prayed, spent time in silence and talked for an hour. Then, my older
granddaughter looked up at Father Rex and said, "I think God sent you. Is that
right?"
In appreciation for Father Rex,
Elise
Elise Murphy Rowe
|
