(In this “November Special Series,” RVA’s writers share memories of loved ones they have lost, a celebration of their lives, recalled with a tinge of sadness and the hope that one day there will be a reunion…… in a place where there is no death, no suffering, and where God Himself will wipe away every tear. – Editor)
In November, as the Church remembers and prays for all the faithful departed, my heart turns once more to my grandmothe, the woman who first taught me how to pray, to trust, and to love God with simplicity.
This year marks the 28th anniversary of her passing. On the early morning of November 2, as I prayed for the souls of my departed loved ones, her presence felt especially close. Her quiet faith, deep devotion to Our Lady, and steadfast love for the Church came alive again, reminding me how much of my own vocation was born in the warmth of her prayerful hands.
A Grandmother Whose Faith Shaped Us
Grandma had a tender, unwavering devotion to Our Lady. When I was a child, she would gather us cousins around her, telling us stories about Mary and teaching us to pray the Hail Mary.
She always held her rosary, touching each bead with the fingertips that had been shattered during the persecution she endured for her faith. Those finger, broken, scarred, yet full of grace, guided our voices as she led the family in prayer. Her rosary, polished smooth from years of use, seemed her most precious treasure.
She rarely spoke about her suffering. Only later did I learn from relatives that she had courageously defended her faith even when they tore off her fingernails, smashed her fingers with bricks, paraded her through the streets, and forced her to sweep roads for more than ten years. Yet she never abandoned her faith.
Whenever I asked how she survived such terrifying times, she would smile gently and say,
“Pray the Hail Mary, and Our Lady will give you strength.”
Following the Eucharist—Wherever It Was
As a child, I often saw Grandma arriving early in the morning to our house. Only later did I realize that she came because our village celebrated Mass more frequently. Her own village had only a small Catholic community, and priests, many recently released from prison, would often come to ours, where more Catholics gathered.
Grandma couldn’t ride a bicycle, so when Grandpa or my uncles couldn’t take her, she would rise at midnight and walk ten or even dozens of kilometers just to attend Mass.
Everyone in the region knew how much she loved the Eucharist. She followed the priest wherever Mass was celebrated that day, until a stroke left her bedridden.
Her Dream for a Church
Grandma’s greatest dream was to build a church in her village. At the time, there were only a few dozen Catholics, and prayer gatherings were held in her home. After each harvest, wheat in summer, corn in autumn, she encouraged everyone to donate a little grain, hoping that someday, brick by brick, a church could rise from their offerings.
When she passed away in 1993, that dream remained unfulfilled.
She also inspired vocations. I still remember how her face lit up when she learned that my uncle Yuehua was entering the seminary. As a young boy, I too was often encouraged by her to consider the priesthood. I believe it was through her prayers that, the very year she died, I entered the minor seminary along with three boys from her village.
Today, though her village remains small, it has produced three priests and three religious sisters, and including us grandchildren, more than ten vocations. Her dream of building a church finally came true ten years after her passing. I believe this too happened through her loving intercession from heaven.
A Quiet and Gentle Holiness
More than ten years ago, when her grave was relocated, I was studying abroad and could not return. My relatives later told me that when they opened her coffin, Grandma’s body appeared intact, almost like plaster.
The diocese investigated, and Bishop Wang later celebrated a solemn memorial Mass for her, inviting the faithful to imitate her example of steadfast faith and quiet love for God. Many villagers came to regard her as a saint and sought her intercession.
But what truly makes a saint? Holiness is not measured by knowledge or achievement. A saint is someone through whom God’s light becomes visible. If that is so, then Grandma has always been a saint to me. Even now, I believe that in heaven she would smile shyly at such words, for being with God is enough for her.
A Prayer for All Souls’ Day
This November, I pray not only for Grandma but for all who have shaped our lives through faith, love, and humble sacrifice. May our departed loved ones rest in the peace of Christ, and may their example inspire us to walk faithfully on our own earthly pilgrimage.
For the Church in China, I pray that every believer may encounter God personally and bear witness, just as Grandma did, in her simple yet radiant way. Our nation still hungers for the Gospel; our people still long for the healing love of Christ. This becomes real when we, the living, recognize that God walks with us, and gently share that presence with one another.
On this All Souls’ Day, we pray:
Our Lady of Sheshan, pray for us.
Holy Martyrs and Saints of China, pray for us.
And may all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.
(Fr John Mi Shen is the Programme Director of RVA. He also serves as the Executive Secretary of the Office of Social Communications, FABC.)
