Life On The Rio Grande
There was something God wanted from me. With time, it would be revealed. Besides, Christ did not hang on the Cross forever. Suffering comes to an end. It has a purpose, and there is a reward. I did not always know it, but I do today: there are no wheelchairs in heaven.
I was born on March 4, 1950 in a small two-room dwelling located in the alley behind my aunt’s house. We were a poverty-stricken Hispanic family living on the Mexican border in the Lower Rio Grande Valley of south Texas. Eight daughters had been born to my mother and father. All, except one, were brought into the world healthy and normal in every way. I was the one destined to be different. Repeatedly I asked God why, as words cannot adequately describe the isolation felt by a child with a visible stigma. Only slowly did the “mission” unfold.
It began in the fall of 1956. My mother and I, both gripped with fear and apprehension, sat tightly huddled together on a train bound for Galveston, Texas and the Moody Clinic for Crippled Children. There, she would leave me for a period of one year. I could almost feel the rapid beating of her heart as she held me close, trying as best she could to reassure me. How could she explain to a frightened six year old little girl what was about to happen? Later, she would say many times that it was one of the most difficult decisions of her entire life. Back then, though, it was the only hope for a child who had been born with a crippling birth defect called Cerebral Palsy. That year, my life was forever changed. We did not know it then, but by letting me go, mother had set me free. It was all part of God’s plan.
Having been abandoned by her husband when her little girls were still very young, my mother had struggled by herself to make ends meet. Meals consisted mostly of potatoes, eggs, beans, rice and tortillas. In the early years, there was no electricity, refrigeration, or indoor bathroom. Poverty existed everywhere. The 1950’s were like that. One of our favorite treats was to walk down to the neighborhood theater and go to the movies together. Admission was five cents. It was an occasion we looked forward to so much! Because we could never afford popcorn or anything, mother would pack for us little tacos of sausage and eggs, and it was so funny because everybody that was sitting around us could smell our food! But we were never ashamed, for we had each other and the gift of a mother who loved us. God was at work in our lives.
Another Door Opened
Until that terribly lonely and challenging year of intensive physical rehabilitation in Galveston, I had been a total invalid, crawling on the floor and requiring everything to be done for me. It was this that had occasioned mother’s agonizing decision. And I will forever be grateful to her. She did it for me, to give me a chance in life. Every small daily task had to be learned – how to dress, bathe, and feed myself. By far, the one requiring the greatest effort was walking. Never will I forget the day that my mother came to finally take me home. As I was bent over a water fountain, someone called my name; I turned around and there she stood. How wonderful it felt to walk to her for the very first time on crutches. We were so happy! I had done it all for her, to surprise her, to see that glorious look on her face. God, in His infinite love and mercy, always provided these “moments of grace.”
The struggle for an education began right away. Initially, after returning to Brownsville, I was placed in an institutional school for crippled children. But that was not where God wanted me. The teaching of traditional school subjects was minimal with most of the time spent working with our hands. It was clear that instilled in me was a hunger for knowledge. As it happened, a physical therapist named Rosita Putegnat was the first to recognize it. Many years later, she said to me, “You were a very spunky kid, Grace. You always knew what you wanted, and what you wanted more than anything was to go to a ‘normal’ school, like the rest of your seven sisters.” She knew I did not belong in this institution, but a fight would be necessary to get me out. It was on her urging that mother began the long battle to obtain for me the education that everyone believed would be my salvation. God had opened another door.
Looking back, it is amazing to see how He did it all. People came into my life at precisely the right moment. Virginia Garcia, the principal of the neighborhood public elementary school was, without a doubt, one of the most important. All mother wanted was for someone to give me a chance. By allowing me to enroll at Skinner Elementary – when no one else would – Mrs. Garcia helped to set me on the path that would one day lead to a university bachelor’s degree and beyond. There were still, however, what seemed like at times, insurmountable obstacles to be met in the future.
Joyful Suffering
Over and over I wanted many times to quit, when often the odds were so much against me, but something kept driving me on. I was not sure what it was. God seemed distant to me. I wanted to believe that He loved me, but why had He allowed this to happen to me? The answer did not come until many years later when one very lonely night in my dormitory room at the University of Texas at Austin, I decided to stop running. There I was, as innocent as one can get, never had been in trouble a day in my life, and yet I did not think I was good enough for God. I invited Him in and accepted everything He had given me and would give me. Satan never likes it when someone says yes to God, so the road got rougher.
It is of course impossible to relate in a small space all the experiences of one’s life. More than anything, I know now that God did not make me disabled, but He did allow it, and for a reason. The very first time I entered a classroom at St. Mary’s Seminary in Houston, Texas, I knew that I was meant to be there. I knew it as surely as I knew the sun would rise the next morning. Wild horses would not have kept me away. While there, a priest who gave me a very difficult time one day said to me, “You are average, nothing more, and you will never make it here.” My response was, “Oh yes, I will!” In spite of so many barriers, four years later I found myself holding the MA in theology.
Today, I teach Catholic doctrine all over lower south Texas for the Bishop of the Diocese of Brownsville. What a privilege and honor it is to teach the richness and beauty of the Truth found in the Catholic faith. My life has been filled with moments of grace. Suffering is indeed a great mystery. It is never to be enjoyed, but it is to be embraced, for it is all about love. It was love that led Jesus to the Cross. His mission involved suffering and mine has too. But I am joyful because I know with all my heart, mind and soul that there are no wheelchairs in heaven.
Grace MacKinnon is a syndicated columnist and public speaker on Catholic doctrine. You may visit her online at www.DearGrace.com.
(This article was originally published in the November 2001 issue of Lay Witness magazine and is reprinted with permission of the author.)