We observed Ryan’s 40th Day Memorial Service, praying for the salvation of his soul and celebrating his life.
A highly accomplished woman, whom I’ve always looked up to as a child, came to me at the end and told me how well I spoke. How my faith was so inspiring and humbling.
I told her, “Ma’am! You talk about my faith being an inspiration. I have a story to share. In your pre-retirement and busiest days, you would come to church every Sunday at 6pm. You still do, but back then, when your schedule was packed, you would show up for God every Sunday, no matter what. I have always looked up to you as a child. I often quoted your example to my husband and child.”
It felt like a circle had been completed. From being that child who looked up to her inspiration for her dauntless faith to her inspiration telling her that her faith was inspirational and humbling.
The Seed
When I look back to the very beginning, I know where the seeds of my faith first sprouted. It was in one of my loneliest, yet most enriching phases of my life. It was during my boarding school days in Kerala. The school was founded by Fr. John Matheiken, a Catholic priest and my paternal granduncle who I called ‘Ichachan’.
Every day began with the daily mass in Malayalam from 6am. While I missed my family terribly, I know my faith wouldn’t have the foundation it did if I didn’t get to witness Ichachan’s faith in word and deed closely.
One fond memory that I have during that phase is waiting eagerly to see if I’d get some luck tasting the host, more so the wine that was offered during the Holy Mass. Since I was a child, there was no way I could get to taste them.
For some reason, I still look forward to the host that’s dipped in red wine during the Mass. And for some reason, I get disappointed when there’s no wine and they serve just the dry host.
What’s a body without blood? Blasphemy!
I know I’m trying to find a valid theological justification for my irrational obsession with the host that’s dipped in red wine, and I know that’s just a lame excuse.
Interestingly, I found a lot of similarities in personality between Ichachan and Ryan. I hope they’re getting to know each other and having great conversations…a happy forever, wherever they are. God bless these gentle, noble souls always!
The Foundation
We develop faith by observing our elders around us. Later when I came home, I became a witness to my parents’ faith. Seeing them go through life’s challenges with God as the center of our lives is a lesson I witness to this day.
Another sight that’s deeply etched in my mind is the sight of my maternal grandmother with the Holy Bible and Rosary by her bedside. I don’t know why, but I always found that sight of her inspiring. It’s how I’ll always remember my late Ammachi.
My mum and her sisters are all extremely strong women and distinct in their own right. I found one thing about that’s both intriguing and interesting. They were all working women, some the sole breadwinners of their families, and they would drink responsibly whenever they gathered in the privacy of our homes. And each one of them is a God-fearing woman. I found a perfect blend of masculine and feminine traits in them.
My paternal side are medical doctors or Catholic priests and nuns. The latter especially, and more so, Ichachan left an indelible impression on me about faith, love, and service.
When Strangers Feel Familiar
Faith is not only what’s found within the family. Sometimes, the greatest lessons in faith come from the most unexpected people outside family.
There was one woman whose face I remember so distinctly back then, when I was in the eighth or ninth grade. It was outside our cathedral. I did not remember her again so keenly until right after Ryan died. That same image flashed not once but several times in my memory.
She was a beautiful woman in her 30s, who lost her husband, a soldier in the Indian Army. They had two sons. Her eldest son and I were good friends. She was a Hindu and her husband was a Christian.
She went to daily mass every single day on her own after her husband’s death. I still remember her serene face outside church after Sunday mass when I greeted her, and she had worn a red saree that day.
While I pitied her, I was amazed by her countenance all along. She radiated beauty and peace—and that in turn, spoke volumes of her strength without uttering a word.
I don’t know why all of a sudden, after so many years, her image in the red saree popped up in my mind. I cannot shake her countenance to this day.
Today, I finally understand her countenance. That kind of unreal strength can only come from the Lord.
We All Carry Light Within Us
It felt like a complete circle when my inspiration said my faith was inspirational—and little did she know she was mine while growing up.
You don’t know who’s watching you…when they might remember you again.
And who knows, simply your recall might play a crucial part, in one of the most challenging times in someone’s life?
It might even soothe them like a balm, if not for providing the answers or a way.
Isn’t that what they call purpose? All of us carry it within us…knowingly or unknowingly.
This post is a part of Blogchatter A2Z Challenge 2026.
