A Mother's Day Reflection: Planting the Seeds of Faith

My Mother's First Communion Picture with Nuns

I recently had a phone conversation with my mother in which she shared that she had written a piece for a project in Hondo, Texas to remember the Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic Church that had been torn down years ago to make room for the new church. In listening to hear read it to me, I was moved by the recognition of the hidden influence she has had on my own writing. My mother has always been the biggest supporter of my writing, encouraging me to continue with my efforts to finish that novel I can't seem to find the time to finish. She has been my prayer warrior over the years and I am sure the many Rosaries she prayed for me is the reason I have returned to the Church. Today, I honor my mother, Adelaida Bedelia Gonzales by sharing her writing.

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The day I met Sister Mary Ann at Mt. St. Michael’s in Dallas, I remembered two other nuns that played an important part in my early childhood in Hondo. I was seven and my sister Celinda was six the day we started school at Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic School. We lived in Angleton, Texas at the time, but our mother wanted us to have our Catholic instruction in Hondo so we went to live with our grandparents. My grand-ma, Teresa Herrera enrolled us in Sister Micaela’s class that year. Sister Micaela was a short, petite woman who carried herself like an Army officer. She demanded respect and obedience at all times. In spite of my fear and awe of her, I respected her and wanted her approval. Her character and manner were unique. Her use of “the RULER” was legendary, but she was a good teacher. I wanted to be just like her (minus the ruler). Sister Clothilde was also an inspiration for me. She was quite different from Sister Micaela. She a listening ear and could dispel all my fears and cares. Through the years, Sister Clothilde wrote to me.

All the sisters loved my grandma and my aunts. Tia Mary would take us girls with her to visit the nuns. Celinda and I were “curious” to see how the Sisters lived. Not very exciting, we decided!!! But it gave me an insight into the sacrifices and devotions of these women who had given up their lives for God. As young as I was, I began to understand to respect that.

Our Lady of Guadalupe was the center of all our community events. We attended Masses, weddings, funerals, baptisms, etc. In the Hall, we had dances, bingos and school performances. I participated in those too. I remember my First Communion Day, made more special because my best friends shared it with me. I remember the Jamaicas and the delicious food. There was skating on Saturdays in the Hall. Afterward we went to Confession. Were in the CYO. I remember Record Hops and the friends. My “Sweet Sixteen” party was in the Hall. The girls were pretty in their party dresses, puffed up by petti-coats, the boys, cool in their khakis and Stacey Adams shoes. I remember the music, all the oldies and the dances. But mostly I remember the nuns because they played a big part in my life. They were the center of everything.

Years later when my husband and I enrolled our youngest son in a Catholic Montessori Preschool, I found myself involved with nuns again. History repeated itself when my 3 year old wanted to visit Sister Mary Ann and her “sisters.” Some of the nuns were very old and sick. My son’s visit made their day. We left with a can of cookies and a bag of pears from their orchard. That year, I trained under Sister Mary Ann and other instructors for my Montessori Certification and started my own Montessori Pre-School and Day Care in Lake Dallas. A year later, I got registered with the state and moved my school to my home. My dream of teaching and caring for children came true. Through the years I’ve had opportunities to teach adults also. I’ve trained others in Montessori teaching techniques and on Early Childhood Development.

I’m thankful for all the experiences I had at Our Lady of Guadalupe and for the nuns that gave of themselves for me. They planted seeds of faith, the need for knowledge and the desire to teach others. Our Lady of Guadalupe Church is no more, but I still remember and share my stories with my sons and grandchildren.