The Beauty of Our Grandparents

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Some of my most memorable childhood moments were spent with my grandmother, affectionately called “Granny.”

Granny was the only living grandparent I really got to know, since I was the youngest child in our family. We had some special times together.

Her smile was warm and contagious. When she and my mom went shopping, she asked me to come along and then said, “Now Michael, look for a big bag of chocolate chip cookies and throw them in the cart.” This was my favorite “mission” as a kid.

Her homemade meals were done with a lot of tender loving care, and she loved to host our family at her house in East Detroit. My grandfather was a fireman for the city of Detroit, so I am sure he had his war stories from the “riot years” of Detroit (which certainly added stress to my grandmother’s life), and they learned to survive with a very modest income.

She would often share her simple but profound faith with me, and I found out later that she attended daily Mass most of her adult life and the Sacrament of Confession every week as well. The rosary beads were often dangling in her hands and there was simply a soft glow and authentic joy that seemed to flow from her face. I looked forward to Granny’s monthly visit to our house and her mere presence at the table seemed to calm everyone down.

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On Thanksgiving day, 1984, I was home for break from Michigan State University, and my older brother, Tom, formally announced his engagement to Ann Casagrande. We all applauded loudly and after a few minutes when things calmed down, my grandmother looked me in the eyes and said, “Michael, you are never going to make this announcement. You are going to be a priest.”

I was shocked by her words, as I had never confided my interest in the priesthood to her or anyone in my family, but she was right. I still marvel at the wisdom and the timing of Granny’s comment, it definitely had a huge impact on my priestly discernment.

I am always impressed when I see older married couples who still seem passionately in love with each other. I have met a handful of couples who have been married for over 50 years, so I like to ask them, “What has been the key to your perseverance?”

Nearly all have given the same answer, “Fr. Michael, you need to learn how to let things go, and not hang on to grudges and past hurts.”

All of these happily married couples also share a strong faith and a real love for Christ, and they have also mentioned the need to compromise to make things work.

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Early on in my priesthood, a fellow priest who had over 60 years of ministry under his belt told me, “If you want to persevere, you need to love Christ a lot. This is the key, Fr. Michael. If you take your eyes off Christ, you will run into trouble.”

Another elderly priest told me, “My biggest concern as a priest is to not get in God’s way.”

There is so much wisdom and goodness in many of our elderly generation. Let’s give them our respect and let’s give them our attention; they have trodden life’s treacherous path successfully, and their perspective could help us do the same.

My grandmother died shortly after I joined the seminary, just two years after that Thanksgiving prediction. I served a Mass back in Detroit that she attended just two months before she died. She said to me, “Michael, I have been praying for you and now that I see you happy in the seminary and on your way to the priesthood, I am ready to leave this world.”

She told me that was one of the happiest days of her life.

Fr. Michael Sliney, LC, is a Catholic priest who is the New York chaplain of the Lumen Institute, an association of business and cultural leaders.