Aunt Rose, a Christmas Story

The following reflection was shared by parishioner Mary Klipp during our afternoon of Reflection and Reconciliation at St. Ignatius on December 14.

During a recent conversation with my son, I admitted out loud that I have a hard time getting into the Christmas Spirit this year. He seemed a little surprised by my admission. As a family, we’ve celebrated Christmas, and were very faithful to the Catholic customs in doing so. Our family always had an advent wreath. We went Christmas caroling. Our holiday decorations always included a creche. We sang at Christmas Masses. So my admission about struggling with the Christmas spirit caught my son off guard. So, he asked me, “Do you have a story that really represents Christmas for you?”

I didn’t need to think hard about how to answer this, and I want to share that story with you.

It was December 25 about 90 years ago. One of my mother’s 5 younger sisters, Aunt Rose, lived about a mile west of us in the city of Milwaukee. And on Christmas Eve night, she went into labor with her fourth child.

At-home births were common at that time, but Aunt Rose’s continued labor on Christmas Day presented a problem for the attending physician whose wife was insistent that he come home “as soon as possible” to be with guests at a long-anticipated holiday party.

To move things along, the doctor administered a drug to Aunt Rose to speed up the delivery. This resulted in a 7-8 minute lapse in oxygen to her baby. An otherwise normal little boy was born with profound brain damage and multiple disabilities. Her Christmas baby and newly born son, Peter, would never speak or walk.

There was no lawsuit. There was no immediate or compensating financial settlement as we might assume today. Peter would be forever dependent, and Aunt Rose humbly, lovingly and compassionately took on the work of over 40 years of diapers, baby bottles, sponge baths and delicate skin care.

Aunt Rose and her hardworking husband Walter had 5 children in addition to Peter. But Peter always had his own bedroom - in clear view of the kitchen and living room - so he could be part of family life but have the private, quiet space he needed.

Tending to Peter’s needs became a consistent caregiving task in the home, and in the family. But it was the primary role for my Aunt Rose. Peter and Aunt Rose developed a special language of their own, with his varied cries indicating his specific needs. Their relationship was one of mutual unconditional love and lightness. Their love was an inspiration to everyone who witnessed it. This love spread throughout the family, enriching each member’s experience of loving others and increasing their capacity for compassion in their own lives.

Aunt Rose’s care for Peter was nothing short of extraordinary: his nutrition was balanced, his skin unblemished, his overall care skillfully managed. Aunt Rose’s care was so proficient that she became a model for both the Marquette University and University of Wisconsin Medical Schools, who would send their residents and nursing students out to her home to visit and learn best home care practices for their future medical careers.

I, too, loved visiting Aunt Rose. Her home featured linoleum with a beautiful floral design, and was filled with gently used but colorful and comfortable furniture. She was a secondhand store connoisseur, and even had a foot propelled pump organ. I loved to plunk on it, pulling each of its stops and testing its various tones. I always felt accepted and loved just the way I was at their house.

When I reached adulthood and became a mother myself, on visiting her, I asked Aunt Rose about Peter and how she coped. As we talked, we stood next to his bed, now empty after his passing. On the walls of his room were side by side portraits of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

Aunt Rose stated with joyful faith that, “All those years I had a living Saint in my home! He did nothing to deserve the life he had.” Aunt Rose, I think, with her Faith, found a way to transcend the difficulties.

By beatifying Peter, she allowed God, and His Son Jesus, to guide her in raising her child, this child of God, born on Christmas Day. She knew that the only way forward was by the grace of God, her strength from heaven. My Aunt Rose displayed a patience, a grace, a warmth and acceptance, and an ages old decision to love that begs to be told, especially at this time of year.

When I finished telling this story to my son, he was very quiet. After a few moments he said, “Mom, that’s one of the most remarkable Christmas stories I’ve ever heard, and I hope you have the opportunity to share it.”

So here I am, sharing it with all of you. And, as I do, I’m starting to realize that this is indeed what I believe to be the true spirit of Christmas. The spirit of Christmas is our inviting Jesus into our lives, in whatever form he takes, and dedicate ourselves to doing the work of unconditional love.

May I suggest that each of us has a Peter in our lives, a life challenge, a suffering, a work custom made just for us in order to achieve our own Sainthood. At this time of year and today, at St. Ignatius, we are gifted with the time and space to examine our lives, assess our challenges, and pray for the gifts we are given, graced, to meet them.