Witness of Rosaria P.
 
Back in Italy, my parents were a faith-filled, simple, hard-working couple, devoted to each other and their young family. My father died in a tragic work-related accident when I was 2 years old, so I don't remember him, but I could feel him through my mother's courage and strength. I remember my mother often saying that after her spouse,
                                                             
died, she now had 3 husbands... to take care of all under the age of six.
 
She was a dedicated mom to say the least. Jesus has always been my best friend.
 
My oldest brother was a wonderful person who also had a tremendous impact on my spiritual growth. As a child, I remember him vividly, often toting me around, or carrying me on his shoulders, and more often than not, we ended up at our church where he humbly served as sacristan. He was also so proud to have been given the responsibility of ringing the church bells or of helping out at the countless religious feasts and processions. He and my mom saw to it that I was dedicated to my studies where the Sisters taught math, reading and life skills such as sewing and embroidery. Our little family of four found joy and belonging at our church in Italy.
 
The challenges of poverty, war and being a single mother were great, but our faith filled foundation galvanized my mother's love and commitment to her family. BUT, this seemed to unravel when my oldest brother was 21. He secretively went to Naples and was diagnosed with a deadly illness. He never made it home. My mother was crushed with grief. She was furious with God! She felt victimized and abandoned. Depression took hold of her and my other brother and I were left to fend for ourselves. Mother withered away; she was lost. After a painful year dragged by, miraculously, my mother started to find her way "back". This was likely one of the most joyful times for my brother and I. The rhythm of daily living and worship found a new energy in our now family of three. Jesus has always been my best friend and has carried me through the dark times.
Eventually, my brother and mother moved to Canada, and so too did I with my husband and first-born child. Like most immigrants, we were full of anticipation and hope for a better, more prosperous life, but the longing for the familiar led me to St. Veronica's Parish.
 
When we settled into our tiny attic apartment on First Avenue almost 60 years ago, the first thing I asked my dear friend and "Comari" was, "where is the closest church?", so we could attend mass. I felt at home at this very church from that first day. Jesus has always been my best friend.
Where have all the years gone? I am grateful for so many blessings in life, one of which is this beautiful assembly of faithful worshipers here at St. Veronica, a place where we have grown life-long friendships, and a second home where I sometimes showed up with a troubled, heavy heart....And.... as always felt welcome, peaceful and above all, embraced in love. Jesus has always been my best friend.
In closing............... I look at the statue of our beloved St. Veronica and I am
in awe of the love she showed Jesus as she comforted Him and wiped His battered face. And I realize that she, like Jesus, does this for me
too................... showing me love that is unafraid, comforting me and helping me
to see better while on my journey each time I enter our door.
Yes, Jesus is my best friend.
AMEN