I grew up in a house on 47th Avenue in Woodside, Queens, just two blocks from the parish school and church. It is the setting of all my childhood stories, so much so that my children could probably describe for you every inch of the place. They know all about the doorbell with a buzz that would go right through you, the brick front steps so exactly right for stoop ball, and the little bedroom with the rocking chair and the fuzzy black and white TV. We moved to another house about a mile or two away when I was about fifteen. That's the place my older girls remember dimly as "Grandma and Papa's house," with Papa smoking a cigar on the front porch, Grandma cooking something in the kitchen, and roses blooming in October and June. It is the home where I laughed with my mother and told her every single thing and then some, where my father told the stories I would give anything to hear again, and where a tall, earnest, and honorable young man came around so faithfully that I finally left one morning all in white silk, lace and tulle.
My father and mother passed away years ago, and there is no house in Woodside for us to visit anymore. For years now, I have always felt a little pang, especially around Christmastime, that I cannot return again and bring my children to the home I loved so well.
On New Year's Eve, my childhood parish--St. Mary's--had Midnight Benediction to ring in 2017. Although it was late and cold and dark, my husband humored me and packed the children in the car, driving miles and miles into Queens in the middle of the night. We arrived at about twenty minutes to 12 and slipped into a pew. Usually, when I visit places remembered from youth, they seem smaller and often duller, but St. Mary's looked more majestic than ever, with its soaring crucifix and marble altar, the familiar statues and stained glass, and the old Nativity scene with a Christ child I once held in my arms as part of a Christmas Eve procession. I knelt with my husband and children waiting for midnight, looking around as memories played in my mind. I saw myself in banana curls kneeling for my first Holy Communion, remembered the kindliness of Father Rooney as he heard my first confession, filed in with my classmates in red robes for confirmation, stood by my mother as she sewed yards of draperies for the downstairs chapel, and grasped the arm of my father as he walked me down the aisle to meet the man who was kneeling now beside me. Then I remembered Chris proposing to me inside St. Mary's. I had just finished lectoring the 5 o'clock Mass on a Saturday, and the moment we found ourselves alone, he got down on one knee right there and offered his whole life to me.
At the stroke of midnight, the pastor held up the Blessed Sacrament and blessed us in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. My heart was full of joy to be there and the realization that St. Mary's is truly my childhood home. It is more my home than any house we ever lived in, and it holds more memory and meaning. I will never again say that there is no house in Woodside for us to visit--God's house is our house.
As we were leaving, the pastor, Father O'Connor, saw us and said, "It's good to see the O'Briens." Then he corrected himself, "I'm sorry, I should say the Gunthers." Yet, just at that moment and that hour, I was grateful to be called by that dear, old name again and so happy to be back in the O'Brien home.
In loving memory of Alice and Neil O'Brien (photo taken in Ireland, circa 1972).
How utterly gorgeous!
Posted by: Lissa | January 02, 2017 at 11:11 PM
You are too kind. Love you so much, Lissa. Thanks.
Posted by: Alice Gunther | January 02, 2017 at 11:15 PM
Wow! Your children are blessed to have you share such wonderful and special memories of your childhood with them.
Posted by: Christine | January 03, 2017 at 12:14 AM
Oh how lovely.
I'm afraid my childhood parish is an ugly modernist monstrosity. I have mixed feelings about it, both fond memories and a sort of appalled resignation about the architecture. And when Dom and I met and got engaged at a parish in Salem Massachusetts, I was rather happy to have an excuse to get married at a new parish home, in a lovely old church built by Irish immigrants and the first Catholic parish in Massachusetts. But now we've moved more than an hour away from that church where we met and were married and where our first two children were baptized. But I took the kids for a visit recently when we were in Salem to go to exhibition at the art museum and we parked right in front of the church and got to go in for a little visit. We don't know the priest there now, but there was someone I recognized from daily Mass there, a sweet lady who gave us a little holy family icon as a wedding present. And it did indeed feel a little bit like going home.
Posted by: Melanie B | January 03, 2017 at 12:37 AM
You got proposed to in church--the church of your youth? What an inspiring story. Thanks for sharing!
Posted by: Abigail R Benjamin | January 03, 2017 at 06:09 AM
You have me tearing up and remembering so many things from my life, right down to the wedding day walk down the aisle! How blessed we've been in our lives to be able to call St. Mary's home!
Posted by: Stacey Lynch | January 03, 2017 at 06:44 AM
Such beautiful memories, Alice. How fortunate you were to spend so much time in one place. I haven't been back to the church of my youth in a million years (give or take). You have me longing to see it again.
Posted by: Barbara | January 03, 2017 at 07:09 AM
I loved reading your story, childhood memories are the best. Continue to cherish them and share with your children. Your husband did the most rewarding thing, taking you down memory lane, on such a beautiful Holy night.
Posted by: Eileen Joyce | January 03, 2017 at 08:00 AM
Love this, so beautiful--what a perfect way to start my day.
Posted by: Sarah Hutchins | January 03, 2017 at 08:25 AM
Oh, so lovely. The continuity of your life and faith is so beautiful.
Posted by: Karen Edmisten | January 03, 2017 at 08:40 AM
I loved reading this beautiful memory. Thanks for sharing and God Bless your 2017, dear Alice and family!
Posted by: Allison Girone | January 03, 2017 at 09:11 AM
Thank you for sharing this lovely post with us. My prayers for you and your precious family as 2017 begins.
Posted by: Jennifer in TX | January 03, 2017 at 10:30 AM
Such a beautiful story. I've found that for my children, I hope. I love that your husband proposed in a church.
Posted by: Jennifer | January 03, 2017 at 10:58 AM
I don't have a childhood church, because I was not raised Catholic. And I don't have my own family home to go to at the holidays, either. I'm very fortunate that my husband's family has made a sort of adopted home for me, so that going to stay with them at the holidays feels a lot like going home -- but I don't think it will ever entirely replace what I have lost.
Posted by: bearing | January 03, 2017 at 12:02 PM
A beautiful way to spend New Years thanking Jesus for all the good things he will do in 2017.Thank you Alice & Chris for sharing this story. Uncle Bob
Posted by: Bob FAY | January 03, 2017 at 04:07 PM
What a beautiful story. I was baptized in St. Mary's, but was never there (at least not old enough to remember). Although I have no memory of that beautiful church, I follow it on Facebook. Thank you for this very heartwarming post.
Posted by: Candy Ross | January 03, 2017 at 04:50 PM
Lovely post. Your saintly mother taught me CCD at St.Mary's (I went to p.s. 229 and then i.s. 73). I live in the suburbs of Bergen county NJ now, but my parents are still in Woodside so we get to visit St. Mary's every now and then. Happy new year...
Posted by: Steve | January 03, 2017 at 10:08 PM
Just lovely! So glad you stayed up and drove all that way!
Posted by: Kortney | January 04, 2017 at 10:54 AM
What a wonderful story and it is so true about our childhood parish was our "home." I think this is more true of parishes in Queens and Brooklyn where we lived within walking distance of the church and school. You brought back memories of my own banana curls at first Communion. So glad you found you can go home again on New Year's Eve.
Posted by: Mary Iapalucci | January 04, 2017 at 02:20 PM
Beautiful! You've got me tearing up, too. Xoxo Happy New Year to you and yours, Alice! Much love, Mary
Posted by: Mary | January 04, 2017 at 03:45 PM
Thank you all so much!
Steve, I loved your memory of my mother. She truly loved each and every one of her students.
Posted by: Alice Gunther | January 05, 2017 at 12:53 AM
Awe Alice what a beautiful story.... My favorite picture of your Mom in that yellow suit - so happy and pretty! My Grandmother always called your Dad, "The Judge" ...I remember playing the Saturday night 7:30 masses during the Advent season more clearly than any other time of year. It was a magical time - ah to be young again. Thanks for the memories Alice!
Love Ya,
Ann xoxoxo
Posted by: anna smith | January 05, 2017 at 11:19 PM