Feast of the Presentation and Gramma Jean

Anna and Simeon with the Holy Family

February 20, 2002

Feast of the Presentation of our Lord

One year ago today I was in Cuernavaca, Morales in Mexico, and my mother called me with news I was expecting--my grandmother, Jean Cowen, had died. Gramma Jean had spent less than a year in a nursing home, and her health was rapidly declining. Even though we knew that she was miserable and that her health was bad, hearing the words still shook me. One year later, I am still learning how to live in a world without the person who most shaped me into the person I am today. 

It is meet and right that my grandmother died on the Feast of the Presentation of our Lord. While her Southern Baptist tradition would not have celebrated this Feast, per se, she would have known well the story from Luke's Gospel of Mary and Joseph presenting Jesus in the Temple. She also would have known about Simeon who recognized the baby as God's promised Messiah and Anna the prophet who proclaimed the Gospel that God had fulfilled God's promise. 

As I read the story of Jesus, his parents, Simeon, and Anna, I realize the generational diversity of this crowd: The baby, the new parents, the old man near death, and the 84 year-old widow. Each of these people had come to the Temple to worship God and to seek the promise God gave through Moses and the Prophets. 

Just as Jesus was carried to the Temple by his parents, I was carried to church by my parents and by my grandparents. My grandmother, in particular, made sure that I, like Jesus, was raised in the faith of my ancestors. She bought me and my brother an illustrated children's Bible, which I still have, and as I grew she bought me at least three other Bibles that I can recall. Each was appropriate to my age and each filled me with a sense of awe and wonder as I studied the stories of God's people.

Because my grandmother was the church organist--a position she held for more than 60 years--she taught me the hymns and music of the church. I would sit at the organ bench with her turning pages and watching her hands and feet as they played the notes on the page. She was my piano teacher, and I still find solace and connection with God when I sit at the piano and play. 

Mary and Joseph bring Jesus to the temple because he is the firstborn son. In Jewish tradition of that time, you presented the firstborn to God. I, too, am a firstborn son. When I was born, my grandmother took out an ad in the paper with my picture. Charles and Jean Cowen of Henderson, TX have a new grandson. She was so proud. When I was baptized at age 5, she told everyone who would listen. Like Mary, my grandmother wanted to make sure that I was dedicated to God. Like Anna the prophet, she told everyone about how the baby in her life connected her to God. 

Gramma Jean came to see me in my first high school musical:
Hello Dolly. I played the judge and was in the chorus.

My grandmother was my greatest champion, advocate, and cheerleader. She came to every single play, choir concert, basketball game, and piano recital she possibly could attend. Her support gave me the confidence to do well and to keep trying new things. 

From my very earliest memories, I was with Gramma Jean. We went everywhere together, and we did everything together. She used to call me "my shadow." I can remember sitting on her bathroom vanity and watching her put on her makeup--an hour long endeavor at best. I would ask a million questions, and she would patiently answer them all. 

"Why don't you have eyebrows, Gramma Jean?"
"I plucked them out."
"Why?"
"I can draw them better than God made them."

She took me to see ballets and concerts and plays, and I asked a million questions, and she answered them.

"Why do we have to stand up when they sing Hallelujah?"
"Because the king did."

She took me to antique auctions and seminars on decorating. I asked a million questions, and she answered them.

"Why do you arrange the candlesticks like that?"
"Things look better in odd numbers. Avoid symmetry. It makes it more interesting." 

Gramma Jean instilled in me a deep love of beauty. She loved beautiful things: clothes, jewelry, furniture, decorations, and even her own hair and makeup. I think she saw that God made all the beautiful things, and through them, we could learn something about God. To this day, the beauty of my church's liturgical tradition helps me see God.

Gramma Jean in the 1960s
Dressed for church.

One year after Gramma Jean's death, I am still learning how to live in a world without her. Just two nights ago I went to a choral concert, and my first thought was, "I have to call Gramma Jean and tell her about this." Not a single day goes by where she isn't in my thoughts. I sometimes feel incredibly lost without her light to guide me.

I think about Simeon in those moments. Simeon spent his whole life awaiting the birth of the promised Messiah, and when he holds the baby Jesus in his arms, he is finally able to say, "Let your servant now depart in peace."

My grandmother died after seeing me ordained to the priesthood--something of which she was incredibly proud. I also had 35 years with my best friend, teacher, mentor, and guide. No one in this world has loved me more than she did, and I loved her fiercely.

Now that she is gone, I have to do the work that that the prophet Anna did. I have to proclaim the love of God and the revelation of God through beauty that my grandmother taught me. That is why I was called to the priesthood. I learned from Gramma Jean (and many others in my family) the love of God, and now I get to share that love with others. Every time I give the Blessed Sacrament to my parishioners, I feel her with me. I know that she is among that great cloud of witnesses and that she is still cheering me on.

I love you, Gramma Jean, and in the fullness of time we will be together again in God's Kingdom. In the meantime, keep praying for me.