This is perhaps a different twist on the scripture passage Mike Mather offered for my grandmother’s funeral, as I shared her gift of hospitality….to anyone, but particularly to those emigrating from Poland. She had spent years teaching emigrants English and US Citizenship under Rooselvelt’s administration. (Hear her story firsthand from her 95th birthday party!)
A natural extension of her work there was to open her home, with Pop-pop, to house, feed and nurture the body and soul of Polish people, given her fluency in her parents’ native tongue and her proud heritage. (Hear her talk about what it was like growing up in Philadelphia as a first generation Polish-American, including recounting the Lord’s Prayer in Polish.)
This week, within days of Mee-maw (Blanche) passing to the other side of the curtain, a friend found her first penny from Blanche.
Last night, I was watching Les Miserables with some dear friends, and felt my mom and Mee-maw’s presence. I bought one brooch for me (two masks/theater motif), one butterfly to match my mom’s silk jacket I wear and my tattoo…and wanted one more for Blanche. (Well, for me to remember their life, love and legacy….)
I ended up buying an amethyst-colored brooch (one of her favorite stones) when L. (behind the counter at the gift shop) gave me three options…but as she pointed to one, she said accidentally…Blanche, instead of whatever word would have been normally to follow. Wow….
L. had no way of knowing my grandmother’s Americanized version of her first name, Blanche…for Bronislaw. And I know Blanche was pointing for L., because L. shared later that she had lost her 45 year old daughter this year…to a heart attack. My 71 year old mom died in January…of a heart attack.
If we listen to the Spirits or Angels or whatever term is comfortable for you…I believe they talk to us. Some in pennies, some through others, some in signs.
Our Angels want us to know that they are ok…and that we can grieve, but move on and live life to the fullest. They are smiling down, dancing and laughing with us.
The Magical Storybook of Professor Peacock 
A friend of mine recently commented on the border / immigration situation in America… It reminded me of my grandmother’s stories from the Roosevelt times, where she educated new citizens…lest we forget our roots.
Here is Troy’s post to Facebook as a current day reminder…
“So I’ve run into some racist and uninformed statements on Facebook from some people I actually like since this border thing has come to a head. Let me be perfectly clear. My son is of Mexican and El Salvadoran descent. He was born in the US. He and both of his dads are super proud of all THREE of our immigrant heritages. If you feel comfortable stereotyping our son’s work ethic with no knowledge of it (he’s an honor student, FYI) or that of his relatives or making blanket statements about what “they” are doing to damage the U.S. please remove yourself from my friends list now. I won’t be offended or mention it in public, and it will likely save me the trouble of going barefoot Arkansas on you at some point. Family is family.”
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