| Notes |
- "Our caring presence is ‘mustard seed’ that lives on"
By Father James P. Walker
Jesus was superbly poetic. His images kept teaching long after the crowds dispersed and went home. Such was the case with the mustard seed. When the apostles demanded an increase in faith, they must have been puzzled by his response. “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed,” he told them, “you would say to this mulberry tree, be uprooted and planted in the sea and it would obey you.” Talk about a stretch of the imagination! The mulberry tree has a hearty and extensive root system. And a small seed is so easily lost, discarded, or just plain overlooked. Its significance is hardly appreciated in a world of flash and splash. The message, however, is that faith is unexpectedly powerful. Our “accomplishments” may well fade with time but our caring presence is a mustard seed of faith that lives on in the hearts of those we love.
At 89 Billee Cox is a petite woman of faith with a Gibraltar-like determination to do and be her best. As the seventh child of 16, she learned well the hard lessons of life. Living in a senior community in Pinellas Park, Fla., she loves her church, her friends and family, but don’t dare forget her passion for pinochle. Few can match her. Her days are busy, for sure, but this coming Friday, Oct. 12, she just may pause to remember, as only a mother can, what happened in her far-away home 60 years ago that very day. You see, some anniversaries were never meant for history. Only the heart can hold them and give witness to their beauty.
When Billee married Ray Cox in 1940, she instantly became a mother. Ray’s first wife had died of tuberculosis. His son, five-year-old Sonny, had just been diagnosed with tuberculosis of the spine. Billee loved him as she would her very own. By 7 he was in a body cast for a year. But eventually he would go to school with a back brace and the help of the school’s truant officer who picked him up every day. The disease was progressive. And in those days surgery was far too risky.
Father George P. Mulroy was bringing Communion to Sonny at home when he popped the question about Sonny’s Confirmation. Since Sonny was unable to go to the mission church in the nearby park, Bishop James A. McFadden, first Bishop of Youngstown, would come to him. Thus it was that on Oct. 12, 1947, at 1:50 p.m. the bishop’s black car pulled up at 430 Grant St. in McDonald. The tiny ranch home held about 30 people that day. A bedroom served as a sacristy. And Sonny was confirmed in the living room. But it wasn’t the regal entrance of a bishop that proved most impressive. It was how Bishop McFadden was so unhurried and so at ease with them. He spoke and spent time with everyone. His presence conveyed a personal caring that touched them all. Afterwards Billee handed the bishop an envelope with an offering of money. Bishop McFadden took it and gave it to the newly-confirmed youth. “Sonny, you can use this,” he said. “I want you to walk again.” An hour and a half after arriving, the bishop and his assistant were gone. But two months later, Sonny’s toes began moving and he was able to walk out on the front porch. The kids in the neighborhood were ecstatic.
When Hubert R. “Sonny” Cox died in 1986, by all accounts, he had lived a hard but successful life. And what a blessed life as well. The house at 430 Grant St. and others, too, have different owners these days. Very few recall the name “Sonny Cox.” Such is life. After all, Billee and Ray moved to Florida in 1973. Ray died several years ago, but today a charming and contented widow knows and remembers. And that’s all that matters.
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1918 - 2014 (~ 96 years)
[2, 3, 4, 5, 6] 
Residence
