Peggy Fitzgerald Smith died today. She used to come to the daily 12:10 Mass - for how many years, I don’t know, but for many, many years. She was someone who had a rare zest for life, the likes of which must be celebrated. Peggy would occasionally interrupt my daily Mass homily to ask for clarification or for more detail.
Her whole body would enter into her prayer. During the prayers of the faithful she would gyrate as she prayed for one relative or 
another and would frequently thank God with hands raised for prayers answered. For those of you who have attended the daily 12:10 Mass, Peggy was the one who at the end of Mass would always invite everyone to join in singing a hymn. Years ago she was known to climb over the pews to reach others to give them the sign of peace. She lived in a trailer park, did not drive, and would hitchhike to church if she missed the bus. One time a policeman stopped to tell her that an 80 year old woman should not be hitchhiking. Instead, he drove her to the noon Mass.
Peggy was a woman of profoundly deep faith. She was a woman who exuded vitality. Peggy was the type of person whose very presence made people smile. In fact, when I gave her the Last Rites she was still so full of life, even in the last stages of pneumonia, that I told her that when she got to meet the Lord she would “sparkle.” That’s my favorite word to describe Peggy Fitzgerald Smith: she sparkled.
Peggy was not a wealthy person in terms of material wealth, but she was one of the richest people I have ever met, in terms of what ultimately matters.
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