Vaya con Dios: the best advice on heaven or earth

I do not know what my first words were when I was a baby learning to speak. I never bothered to ask my Mom. Considering I was number seven out of eight, she might not remember. But I do know what my first words in Spanish were: Vaya con Dios.

I remember the day I first read that sentence. I suppose that I stared at it from infancy, as my parents carried me out the front doors of the little church nestled on Hope Hill Road in Yalesville, Connecticut. The sentence was inscribed in a stone slab that was the first thing we saw when we walked out of the church. I was holding my Dad’s hand, and my new children’s missal. I was so proud of the fact that I could now read the scriptures and the prayers of the Mass. As the doors of the Church opened out, the glare from this sign shone on that sunny Sunday morning.

Using my new-found phonetic tools, I sounded out the phrase and quickly realized this was not the English language I had come to know and love. I didn’t know anyone who spoke Spanish, from either Spain or Latin America. But I loved the way these sounds flowed off my tongue. I tugged at my Dad’s hand and asked him what it meant. He translated the sentence for me explaining that it was Spanish for “Go with God.” My Dad told me that our church was named, “Our Lady of Fatima” in honor of the apparitions of Mary to three little shepherd children in Fatima, Portugal. A large mural of Mary inside the church depicts the scene of these 1917 apparitions. The Spanish mission architecture of the little church was consistent with this history. I repeated that greeting, in Spanish of course, every time I walked out of church.

I had the unique opportunity to visit Our Lady of Fatima church this past week. It was a strange set of coincidences— I call it God-incidence- that brought me there.

Right now, I am working very hard to literally close the final chapter on the first book I have ever written. My menopausal mornings are a great time to finish this grueling journey of the heart. I’ve been actively writing for the past six months. While it’s not a memoir, the book has caused me to reflect back on my some aspects of my childhood that have affected the way I view life — in particular, how I manage the difficulties of my daughter’s illness. At the same time, I entered an accreditation program and finished coursework to become a certified professional coach, who specializes in coaching for caregivers. This work has been so time-consuming that I am actually looking forward to organizing and cleaning my house when it’s all done! (Maybe.)

As part of my personal and professional education for coaching caregivers, I attended a national conference, called “Fearless Caregivers.” When I signed up for the conference and looked at the location, I laughed. The conference was at the Oakdale Theater, in Wallingford, Connecticut. I had lived less than a mile from the theater.

I took the ferry over very early in the morning and drove up the Merritt Parkway to Wallingford. The fall leaves were beautiful. A strange feeling came over me as I got off the highway. I haven’t been back to Wallingford in about 20 years. I thought it was some sort of strange convergence, a kind of “back to the future” experience. I was attending the conference for my own journey as a caregiver but also to gain some education in how the business of caregiver support operates on local and national levels. I found it very interesting that this new career in coaching caregivers brought me back home.

The conference was very helpful, personally and professionally. When the conference ended, I drove up the hill to see the home I lived in from eighth grade through college. All summer long, I used to keep the windows open and listen to the music from the Oakdale Theater. Here I was, on the brink of a new chapter of life, returning home to my roots. The house was a quaint colonial with a nice piece of property. My parents were so happy to move to their new home in a nicer section of town. When I left that area, I drove past the home where I was born. I found that house in disrepair, a reminder of my father’s wisdom in selling the house.

I ended my journey back at Our Lady of Fatima Church, as I parked my car right next to the sign in Spanish that still greets the faithful as they exit the Church. I visited the beautiful old cement statue of Our Lady of Fatima. The expression on her face is very life like and comforting. This image of Mary helped me to understand Jesus’ command from the cross, “Behold your mother” (John 19:27) and to embrace Mary as my spiritual Mom. Years ago, I spent many hours by that statue just talking to Mary and asking for her guidance as strived to follow her son, Jesus.

In the final hour of this journey back to my future, I was thinking about the week ahead as I stood outside the little church. On Wednesday, Nov. 12, which is the 18th anniversary of Johanna’s diagnosis, I will submit my book, Breathing Underwater: A Caregiver’s Journey of Hope, to the publisher. Next Saturday, Nov. 15, is the anniversary of Johanna’s first major brain surgery. That day, I will be giving a talk about our journey and introducing the book.

These 18 years have truly been a journey of hope because I have chosen to “go with God.” What the evil one intended for our destruction, the Lord has used for our greater good and for the good of hundreds of people whose lives have been touched by this journey.

As I stared at the sign, Vaya con Dios, it struck me that these words are the best advice anyone on heaven or earth could give me. The truth of those words, which shaped my life from birth, mean more to me now than ever before. If someone were to ask me today, what advice I had to live a purpose-filled life; I would suffice it to say, “Vaya con Dios”- Go with God. It’s the only way I know how to go.

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Eileen Benthal is a writer, speaker and wellness coach with a B.A. in Theology from Franciscan University. She and her husband Steve live in Jamesport and have four young adult children. Their youngest, Johanna, is a teenager with special needs. Eileen can be reached at FreeIndeedFreelance.com.