My mom grew up as an only child in the bucolic beer town of St. Mary’s, Pennsylvania.  At a very young age, she lost her father,  forcing her mother to go back to work at the local carbon company.  My mom was then essentially raised by her Uncle Pete and his family, with ten kids of their own.  She was considered number eleven.  And she was two years apart from her first cousin, Irene Straub, who became the sister she never had.

Irene (or “Aunt Irene”, as I always knew her) was smart and gregarious,  eventually channeling her desire to care for other people into a career in nursing.  She graduated from The Georgetown School of Nursing and worked for a time in Washington, DC, before moving back to St. Mary’s to continue her career.

In addition to her duties as a nurse, Irene was actively involved in her church, was a founding member of the choir, and loved to relax and have a Straub Beer (or two!) down at Bear Run, the idyllic Straub Family Camp.  Always one to boisterously sing a tune, or tell stories by the fire, Irene was a legendary figure at Bear Run.  In fact, she shot the first buck down at the camp, and the antlers still hold a revered position on the trophy wall of the Main Lodge.

And while she was a woman of many talents and accomplishments, her family is, and always will be, her greatest legacy.  Irene married Robert Taylor in 1964, and they subsequently had three boys: Paul, Larry, and Bert.  She always made room in her life for work, hobbies, spiritual enrichment, friends, and extended family.  But she made it clear that her priority was raising her boys and making sure they were loved and nurtured.  (Mission accomplished!) 

Sadly, Irene passed away suddenly a few weeks back.  She was 87 years old, lived a great life, and raised an amazing family.  Her oldest son, Father Paul Taylor, O.S.B., the President of St. Vincent’s College and Team Chaplain for the Pittsburgh Steelers, presided over her Funeral Mass.  And there was not a dry eye in the Church (or online!) when he finished delivering his heartfelt eulogy.

But as the stories rolled in, perhaps the most emblematic of her life involved a question from her two younger sons.  Earlier in their adult lives, when Larry and Bert asked Irene how to create a family and home as good as the one they grew up in, Irene said with confidence there were three priorities for raising children:

“Love them.  Feed them. And want them around.”

Amen, Aunt Irene. 

That is great advice for raising a family.  Simple but powerful.  But it also highlights a broader point for the rest of us.  When we strip everything else in our lives away, we have to fervently espouse our core beliefs.  They don’t have to change the world.  They just have to be clear and genuine.

Find  Your Guiding Star

Just about every Fortune 500 Company produces a streamlined list of core values that drives its culture.  These are clearly stated principles about the organization’s vision and mission. These core values guide the company and determine the types of candidates to recruit and the types of business to pursue.  We need to embrace that same practice for our own journey through life.

We have the competing obligations of family, work, social activities, spiritual activities, and hobbies.  With so much on our plate, life can spin out of control. We need to step back from the madness and find our guiding star. Who are the most important people in our lives? What gets us out of bed in the morning?  What motivates us to run through brick walls?  What are our own core values? We can’t answer any of these questions unless we are clear in our beliefs.

Never Waver From Your Mission

And this is even more important when the tide turns against us.  In difficult times, we struggle to make sense of our situation.  If we don’t firmly understand our core beliefs, we will grasp for the first sign of relief from the pain.  We will ping-pong back and forth searching for a temporary salve in the moment with no clear strategy.  Does this sound like the recipe for a resilient life?

Our core values provide a solid rudder for us.  And fuel our resilience.  No matter where we are in life, we can come back to them. They will reaffirm our conviction in the good times, and guide us back to calmer waters in the challenging times.  All the while instilling us with meaning and purpose.

Aunt Irene was clear in her mission.  Love them. Feed them.  And want them around. Despite all the distractions and setbacks that may have entered her life, she never wavered.  And she carried this mission out with grace and humility until the end.

Thank you, Aunt Irene, for showing us the way.  And rest in peace.