Serving the Lord Her Way
Sunday, October 10, 2004
by AMY MARTINEZ STARKE

Francisca Gabriel never had a boyfriend. No use for such foolishness; she wore a gold wedding band and declared, "I am married to God."

From girlhood in the British West Indies, Francisca knew that God had chosen her to be a steadfast warrior for the one true faith, and she knew the only religion God made was Roman Catholic.

"You should have been a nun," people always told her.

Francisca at one time had wanted to enter the religious life, but the community she hoped to join in 1940s New York City did not take women of her race.

Perhaps it was the color barrier that kept her from taking vows. Or perhaps her destiny was to clothe the naked, feed the hungry and visit the sick and the inmates outside the strictures of a convent: Francisca was fiercely independent and followed her own vision of what God wanted her to do.

As a young woman, Francisca cared for other people's children in the West Indies and Puerto Rico. After that short and unhappy visit to New York City, she came to Portland in the late 1940s and in 1951 joined a lay order, Third Order of St. Dominic. She took care of children and for more than 20 years worked as a nurse's aide at Oregon Health & Science University (then the University of Oregon Medical School) until 1979.

St. Andrew Matriarch

She adopted St. Andrew Catholic Church in Northeast Portland and became a mighty presence there. She considered herself its matriarch, its people her people, and no priest, parishioner or bishop was exempt from her attention.

While there, she became official and unofficial godmother to more than 250 infants, children, adult converts and sheep returning to the fold, even soliciting some of her godchildren before their births.

For years, she lived in a second-floor apartment on North Alberta within walking distance of St. Andrew, with pictures of the pope, the bishops, the church, the priests, Mary, Jesus and her godchildren. Her radio was tuned to KBVM-FM, the Catholic radio station, day and night, while she watched "Oprah," "Dr. Phil" and "Home Shopping Club."

For bazaars and auctions, she made dolls and crocheted and knitted hats, doilies, Christmas ornaments, toilet-paper and Kleenex holders, tablecloths, afghans, flowers. Sometimes relatives sent her food she missed -- breadfruit, plantains and dried fish -- from the West Indies, and for church potlucks and suppers, she made her specialty: yams with a spicy orange-flavored syrup.
"I got everything a poor woman would want. Ain't that something?" she said.

Duties Both Official, Unofficial

Godmother Francisca's official church position was sacristan. She ordered supplies, polished the silver, cleaned the linen, placed the flowers, lighted the candles for daily Mass. Although she never learned to drive, she always had a ride each week to bring Communion to the sick and homebound. She gathered items for food baskets. She made sure children had a rosary and the right clothing for that most important day: First Communion. She started a gospel choir that traveled all over Oregon singing "The Eye on the Sparrow," "Over My Head" and "Going Up Yonder."

She also assigned herself many unofficial roles. She carried holy water and holy oil and believed she had a gift for healing; if she saw a bright light, that person would be healed.

She had no qualms about asking for what her church needed. If the church needed flowers, and the neighbors had flowers, she would ring the bell. If nobody answered, she would help herself.
She kept track of parishioners, especially if she hadn't seen them recently, and phoned them, saying: "Go back to church; that's where you belong."

To those dressed casually: "No, no, no! You don't come to church like that!"

To men: "Take your hat off in God's house!"

Keeping an Eye on Clergy

She made her presence known right away to each newly assigned priest -- and God give him strength. (Even if she didn't agree with him all the time, she made sure he ate.)
"Your Mass was too short," she might reprimand him. "You rush, rush, rush right through.
That's why the church is losing so many people."

She bitterly lamented the Vatican II changes. People don't respect the church anymore, she believed. They don't genuflect right; they don't make the sign of the cross.

She would kiss the ring of new bishops, welcome them, then keep an eye on them.

Not everybody could take her style. Those who stood up to her, or invoked a higher church authority, would succeed -- sometimes.

Finally at age 90 (she claimed to be younger, and nobody dared tell her they knew her age), Francisca was ready for her homecoming.

Before her death on Sept. 18, 2004, she laid out her secular order's white habit, with veil and stockings. She provided names of pallbearers, songs, her picture. She specified that the food should be hot, and that she wanted two white limousines -- one for herself. She ordered Bishop Kenneth Steiner to officiate.

All of her orders were followed.

She even ordered blue skies, and the weather didn't dare refuse, so the white and pink balloons, when released, seemed to fly into the sky forever.

Amy Martinez Starke: 503-221-8534; amystarke@news.oregonian.com
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