By José Dominiguez, July 9, 2020 — When I was living in Houston I was going to a Catholic church, and one of those ladies there, a parishioner, a lady that was very popular in the church invited me to pray the rosary. But I was not so willing and my paper is more or less around that invitation. When your time comes, then, that’s going to be your moment. In that warm summer night outside St. Paul Apostle Catholic Church at Houston, Texas, Maria, my wife, was going to give meaning to our non-expressed arrangement of mutual respect that she honored all her life and puzzled me no more than one time.
It happened two months before her sudden death. She was attending the Mary Legion weekly meeting where she was an active member. The group worshipped the Virgin Mary and praying the rosary was their most venerable event. I was waiting for her in my little and old Honda Civic and enjoying my time reading a book as I always did. Since she participated very often in so many acts of the religious cult, that for me was a kind of routine. But that day was meant to be different. Near 9 pm that group exited using the church main door. I went to meet Maria and greeted her companions. One of them was Josaphina, the person with the most leadership of the group. [She] told me, “Good night Mr. Dominguez. Remember, that you are always welcome to pray with us, and our lady Mary is always waiting for you.” I only smiled knowing that in this case, to be special to Mary was equal to being astray.
I walked with Maria to the car. Before starting the motor I asked Maria, “Why [did] Josaphina insist so much about me praying the rosary?” She told me, “Even when you are so silent and respectful with everyone, everyone knows that you prefer to read your books instead of praying with us. I have explained to them that there is no offense of intention of you with your reading preferences.” I answered holding her hand, “In reality, I don’t care so much about their opinion, but I care about yours.” I noticed her deep breathing, meaning that she was tuned to say very important things. “[When] we lived in Mexico,” she said, “You never used to be my companion in my religious activities, except for a few that have family contact. Now in the U.S.A., you spend much more time with me in church, but there are some activities very seldom you prefer not to be involved. Such is the case with my visit to the most holy, the real presence of Christ in Eucharist where we adore His flesh and blood exposed at the chapel altar.”
There were a few seconds of silence. I was waiting for “Are you a Catholic or not?” or “What kind of Catholic are you?” But instead of confronting me directly, she asked me, “Why do you accompany me to all those acts of worship? Is that you don’t want to open up a confrontation with me?” I thought perhaps she was right. For me, our relationship was much, much more important than my definition as a Catholic. And I answered, “Maria, I think you are a very special person. You make your way of living religion so intense that you easily exceed the regular way of correct cult behaving. You go beyond. I’m not amazed. I know it’s your sensitivity and total commitment that makes you take complete decisions to live according to your conscience. But I am not that way. I prefer to be your driver, your chauffeur. I can take you to any part of Houston, so you can live your religion as you wish.”
And in that moment, I applied more pressure to her hand. Her eyes were shining with tears and I notice the small trembling in all her body. She told me, “I needed to hear that. Sometimes I don’t understand how you put up with me being so different, but let me tell you: I know that I can make pressure on you, and perhaps you will attend with me to the rosary. But you know something? What is the gain? The God that I accept in my heart and the holy Virgin Mary that I accept as Mother don’t need false converts. Let me tell you, all is a matter of time and freedom. The time will come when you will be completely free of pressures of criticism, of advantage, of gains, and especially free of me. And that moment you will decide [with] your conscience what is the best for you. And when the time comes, it will be your time.”
Her words took my mind to the present, to that precise moment. I was sure that THIS was the time, this was the moment. My time. And I was happy doing what I was doing, but when she said, “When the time comes,” I guess she was longing for me to surrender in a future moment to those ideas she deeply cherished. Nevertheless, at the same time, she would want my complete freedom. So she was also patiently accepting any of my decisions.
We were silent. No more words were needed. After a few seconds later she asked me, “Pepe what do you want me to tell Josaphina about the invitation to pray the rosary?” I just managed to say, “Well, tell Josaphina that if the Virgin Mary is waiting for me, please tell the Virgin to be very, very patient.”
Later, I was driving home. I was happy because her respect for me was a way to tell me “I love you, Pepe.”