One of my blessed grandfathers was Francisco, or as we called him, “Grandpa Pancho,” he was my mom’s Raquel’s dad. I remember my grandpa as a person who naturally drew the attention of others. He worked as a church musician, singing masses and playing the pipe organ in beautiful baroque churches in the beautiful city of Zacatecas.
The house where my grandparents lived was very, very close to 3 of the churches that I most remember my grandpa playing in. One of them was called “Jesusito.” I don’t know if that was the official name of the church, but when I visited it, I knew why it was called that. The church was relatively small compared to the others.
The second church where I remember my grandpa playing is called Santo Domingo. This church is where I most remember visiting him. Sometimes my cousins and I would go up to what they call “the choir,” which is the back (and elevated) part of the temple where the pipe organ was installed, and where the singers who participated “in the choir” used to sit, hence the name.
The third temple where I remember my grandpa playing was the Cathedral Basilica of Zacatecas. This temple is a jewel that shines within the abundance of colonial architectural beauty of the city. It is a beautiful church.
Surely my grandpa played in other temples too, but these are the ones I remember most.
Since my grandpa went from church to church, many people knew him. Due to the proximity among them, he walked from one to the other, and rarely went by car (I don’t remember ever seeing him drive).
The times we walked together as a family to attend mass while he sang and played, we would see a pilgrimage of people who greeted him with great affection:
-Don Francisco, how are you?
Or…
-Don Francisco, are you on your way to mass? God be with you!
Or something similar.
When it was time to go back home, and the rush to arrive on time had calmed, then my grandpa would stop to talk to whoever greeted him. He paid special attention to families who had small children. My grandpa always had great affection not only for us, his grandchildren, but also other children benefited from his affection when he greeted them in those occasional encounters.
Something that was natural for me was to see my grandpa joke around, especially in those encounters with families who greeted him. More than once I remember these words coming out of my grandpa’s mouth, directed at one or both of the parents of small children:
-Oh, what a cute child! Can I have him/her?
To which the children’s mothers responded with laughter and smiles, taking the comment as a compliment to their children’s cuteness.
This situation was constant, until one time, my mom told me that there was a different result. This is what I remember:
There was a day when my grandma opened the door of the house after someone knocked. It was a lady who asked for my grandpa, and she was carrying her son in her arms, approximately between two and four years old. My grandma told her:
-Francisco is not home, can I help you?
-Yes, I came to bring my son. Every time we meet on the street and we say hello, he asks me if I can give him my son.
– (I imagine this took my grandmother by surprise) What?! I assure you he wasn’t serious! He loves children, but he was only joking!
– Really? I thought he was serious!
– No no no no no, don’t pay attention to him, take your son with you! I know he’d want you to keep him.
I can only imagine the conversation my grandma must have had with my grandpa that afternoon.
I heard this story several times, not only from my mom, but also from my aunts and grandma.
As for the mom who took the comment seriously enough to knock on my grandparents’ door, I don’t know what her situation must have been like to consider my grandpa’s comment seriously.
Have you ever taken something very seriously? How was that for you?
The funny thing is that it seems that my grandpa never stopped joking. I understand that he continued using his usual phrase with other people’s children:
-Oh, what a beautiful child! Will you give them to me?
It seems that Jesus took very seriously his desire to instruct his disciples when he entered Galilee, because he didn’t want people to notice that they were there. And within that seriousness, within the important and crucial things that he was teaching the disciples, Jesus tells them:
-Whoever receives one of these [children] in my name, receives me. And whoever receives me, receives the one who sent me.
For you, what does it mean to receive a child?
Having had the privilege of watching my daughters grow up, I saw the joy and spontaneity with which they expressed themselves as children.
In the midst of seriousness, could it be that Jesus invites each of us to embrace our own joy and spontaneity?
With nine children and many more grandchildren, the love my grandpa had for us did not prevent him from showing love to other children. It was a conversation that lit up any situation.
Part of that joy and spontaneity of my grandpa Pancho was inherited by my blessed momma. My grandpa referred to my mom as:
—My Raquelito is very playful.
Well, my momma was constantly laughing and laughing. In serious situations, she found a different angle, giving way to a spontaneous jokes, and lightening the possible tension and heaviness. Also, just as my grandpa loved to chat, my momma was also very, very chatty.
Now that my mom has joined my grandparents in the fullness of God’s love, I will be remembering that the seriousness of life does not exclude joy, spontaneity, or whimsy.
If the Spirit leads you, in the serious moments of your life, ask Jesus the carpenter how you can welcome your inner child, saying to yourself: Oh, what a beautiful child!
Marisol
P.S. We can hear about the invitation to welcome our children in the readings of the XXV Sunday of Ordinary Time, year/cycle B.
