I feel the cool spring breeze over my skin and it gently tosses my hair across my face. As I walk inside the corner café, I’m greeted with “Mija!” and a gentle yet secure hug that conveys “Love.” If a person ever needs that unconditional feeling of love, ask Stella; she gives the best hugs. Stella and I walk over to a quiet corner of the café. After we order lunch, I ask what is her 1 Inspiration. “Do I really have to tell you?” she says, giving me her signature joyous smile. Then she adds, “You should know.” I do, but I ask her to tell me anyway.
“It’s faith. I found my faith, first through my Grandma ‘Tita’ and then through my Mom, Josefita.”
As a small child, Stella would accompany Tita on foot to visit someone who was sick, had a baby, or just wasn’t feeling quite healthy. Tita would make “poliadas” a drink that, that might have been, in the old days, what Ensure is today. They would pray the “rosario en los velorios” (rosary at a wake) at a time when the casket with the deceased was kept at the house. They would go to homes and pray with the doliente (suffering/grieving) and offer pesame (condolences) for the family or sit with those taking their ultimo suspiro (last breath.) By prayer, Stella would feel the resolve of her faith by trusting the word of God.
Attending Catholic church and catechism is when she fell in love with the Catholic teaching. She also fell in love with the example the nuns provided as they guided the students learning. The students were not to have any contact with the nuns out of class. So, in order to spend more time around the nuns and experience more of their devotion, Stella would stay after class and clean the chalk-boards.
At that time in 1954, her dad, Juan Lucero, a miner, was diagnosed with black lung disease. The prescribed treatment for the incurable disease was to stay at the tuberculosis sanitorium at Fort Stanton, New Mexico. Stella relates that her father would write to his family. She tells me that he would write: “cosas mas triste aqui; se muere mis amigos y familia.” (things are so sad here; my friends and family are dying.) She said that he would ask them to pray that he could die at home.
Stella folds her hands in prayer imitating her younger self: “Can you bring my Dad home to die? Thank you.” She explains, “I didn’t want him to suffer. I knew he was going to a better place.” Christmas was approaching and she knew her dad would be home soon and would be able to spend a few days with him. The only time the patients were allowed to visit or leave the sanitorium was during the Christmas timeframe of December 23rd through December 26th. Her father wanted to extend the visitation time-frame and he lied to the doctor by telling him that he felt good and asked if he could spend more time at home. The doctor complied with his request but told him that he was to return to Fort Stanton on January 1st.
Her dad died at home on December 31st. She then knew that both her prayers and her dad’s prayers were answered. She prayed that night and remembers talking to God: “I’m here God and Jesus, thank you for bringing my dad home. Now you’re my Dad.”
She has faith that God is her father and she works as His faithful servant: every Saturday, in her apartment, she gathers her neighbors together and prays the rosary and then feeds them. She also attends daily mass and volunteers to help at every funeral. Her mantra is: “You made us; You own us.” She has children of her own and tells me they are on loan to her and the world.
She sums up our visit with the words in Stella-style:
“Every breath is a prayer; He gives us miracles every second. God can give us the will or the power to overcome any problem.”
I am reminded of Hebrews 11:1 that speaks of faith as “the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen” (KJV). I knew of Stella’s story but how I loved hearing it again.