My grandmother came to this country via the death camps of World War II. She was fleeing the death squads in her native Serbia, leaving behind most of her family, all of her belongings, all of her culture. As a political refugee, she'd had the choice to move here or to Australia. She chose America and that's why I was born here.

She survived the bombing of her house, witnessing the interrogation and torture of her mother, the loss of her husband, the execution of her sister.

On the boat to America, her luggage was stolen. The only things she had left were the things she'd carried with her-- a few family photos, and a painting of the Madonna and Christ child that her father had rescued from a fire. The nazis had torn all the gold and jewels off the painting and left it smoldering in a pile with many other priceless artifacts which had been striped of their monetary value.

Her daughter and her mother were the only family she'd been able to get out of the country at that time. She'd paid for their fare by selling a pair of diamond earrings that'd been overlooked in the rubble that had been her home. Valuable as the diamonds were, there wasn't enough money to pay for her son's passage to America, and so at the age of ten, he'd been left behind to fend for himself- having been deemed the most likely to survive such an abandonment. In a war torn country where communism was having it's way a ten year old nobleman was still far safer alone than any woman.

She had no job skills and she didn't speak english but somehow she put aside her despair and sorrow and threw herself into working in a match factory. She needed to earn the money for her son's passage and she needed to earn it as quickly as she could. It took her four years of working in a toxic environment, but she finally did it. She lost most of her hair and her health was failing rapidly due to exposure to chemicals which were slowly killing her. That didn't matter. She brought her son home.

Once he was safe, she fell apart. The cultural pressures of being an immigrant refugee who could barely speak english even in a metropolitan city like New York were too much for her at last. She deteriorated then. She became incoherent and a danger to herself.

Her own daughter, being the only other member of her family who could speak english, at the age of 18 had to sign the commitment papers. Being committed in the 50's before the idea that patients had any rights mustn't have been easy. She received cobalt treatments. Your mother Ivy will best be able to explain what those are to you. Today we consider that torture. It was not so in the 50's.

Her family could not help her. Her friends could not help her. She could not find the strength alone to help herself. She turned to the only place she could. Her church. There she found the strength to try, the will to live, the courage to thrive.

It's only a religion to some people. It's just another institution set up to milk hard earned money out of people who can barely afford to feed themselves. To other people, it is the only salvation they have. It is their refuge against the horrors that they've had to endure in life. It is peace and grace and solace in a world full of indignity, sorrow and loss.

It's okay to push limits at a church. It is. But decent people know that it's only okay if you know that what you're pushing for is _worth_ what it costs the people who need that church. Make damned sure that what you're fighting for is just as important as the peace of mind, security and hope that others find there, if not more so. You may be taking away the only thing they have left. Be sure that what you're giving them is worth it.

Be quite certain that you haven't been blinded by your own sense of self importance when you presume to judge what is more valuable. Truthfully, unless you've been in their shoes, it's pretty unlikely that you're capable of grasping what their religion gives them. Keep that in mind when you're deciding for people who've survived things that might've killed you, what they _need_.

Her name was Simone, in case you wanted to know.