continue at Cream City Catholic
It all started one morning on my way to work. I was just about in my car when I received a phone call from my mother, explaining that my paternal grandfather was near his end. According to the hospital, he only had a couple hours left. At that point, I did not know exactly what to do. I had an important duty for work that day, but I had a greater duty to my grandpa. So I went straight to the VA hospital to see him.
A little background information is needed at this point. My grandfather was a fallen-away Catholic. He grew up attending St. Stanislaus in Milwaukee, but had neither held onto his Faith nor passed it onto his children, like so many other Cream City Catholics in the past century. During his month-long stay at the hospital, he refused a priest – suggesting that he could “take care of his own.” I know very well what generally happens to those who are not ignorant of the Faith and die rejecting it. I had to do something. Everything was at stake.
Not knowing exactly what my next steps would be, I went to pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet. I had faintly remembered something about how powerful it was for those near death and that Christ would take mercy on them. I did not exactly have time for a Rosary either, so I thought, “This is the best I can do.” In the most spontaneous words possible I prayed: “God, I am not really familiar with the Divine Mercy Chaplet. I do not know if it works, but I don’t know what to do right now. My grandpa really needs this. I trust in You that you will save Him. Please God. Please save his soul. And let me know that his soul is saved.” Then I prayed the Chaplet.