There was a woman who sat in front of my family every Sunday at Mass when I was quite young – Mrs. Dellasomething-or-other. My Mom always made me say hello, even though Mrs. D. wasn’t always the friendliest of parishioners. As the decades have passed and I moved on to different parishes and vocations in my life, I don’t remember much about her, but these two things will be forever burned in my memory: she had a head of blond hair spun like cotton candy that blocked my view of the altar, and she always grabbed fistfuls of palm on Palm Sunday like there was no tomorrow. And I mean fistfuls.
I could never understand why I was only allowed to take one measly greenish-brown piece while this lady in front of me could have thatched a roof with what she had gathered from the back of church. Why didn’t Father Gallagher yell at her for taking so much? Why didn’t my Mom slap her hand like she did mine when I tried to take more than my fair share?
Palm greed was taking hold even at that young age, folks!
What I have since come to find out, however, is that Mrs. Della-something-or-other had a purpose for her thievery (at least as I saw it at the time): she used to make palm crosses to be placed on the graves of her family as well as on the tombs of the forgotten in our tiny parish cemetery. They were true works of art, and the time it took to braid and shape these crosses clearly became prayer for her as she made these crosses to honor those who had gone before her, many of whom she herself never knew. What a beautiful way to remind the world that another person’s life mattered, even if we didn’t personally know him or her.
I don’t see too many elaborate palm crosses decorating graves anymore when I am at cemeteries for burial services. I suppose the tradition went when Mrs. Dellasomething’s generation passed away. Wherever her grave may be, I hope that someone in her family is continuing the tradition. Maybe in her honor, this additional thought: the next time we visit the cemetery to pay respects to a loved one, pray prayer for an unknown person whose grave never seems to have any visitors. We never know how that prayer might free the soul from purgatory and bless the family of the deceased.
It would, no doubt, make Mrs. Della-something-or-other very happy!