On March 24, 1947, Patty gave birth to her fourth child and third daughter, Catherine Ann. Mother and baby seemed fine until Patty began to hemorrhage,and received the sacraments before being taken into surgery.

“I thought I was going to die,” Patty told John Kotre., author of the book of her and Pat’s lives, Simple Gifts. “When you are there and conscious, and you think you’re almost gone, you really do think about the life you have led, and you know, I hadn’t done very much. You think that, well, you haven’t got much time, there are so many things to be done...I always say people should almost die once.”

She tells of a family, called the Stones, who prayed for her: “A simple, working-class family. They really stayed up all night on their knees. You don’t believe things like that. Even though I haven’t seen them in years and years, I still feel close to them:”

Together, Pat and Patty began to form cells of married couples who wanted to rear their families in the Christian life. By 1951, ninety-seven cities had joined the Christian Family Movement, including: Tokyo, Copenhagen, London, and several in Latin America.

Meanwhile, the Crowleys were busy ministering to foster children Each year brought more, fourteen in all, coming and going, but one who came as an infant, Therese, was adopted. The children had all been begging Pat and Patty to find a baby for the family, and once she arrived, they couldn’t, wouldn’t give her up. All did not run smoothly, of course, with such diversity under one roof. One child recalls this incident:

“I remember three Cuban students who came to our house right after the Cuban crisis. They were just obnoxious kids. Very spoiled rich kids from Cuba. And they would sit at the dinner table and talk in Spanish. I remember Mary Ann and Cathy and I really got angry. We went and talked to the kids. Told them that, ‘If you don;’t stop...maybe Mom and Dad won’t do anything, but we”re going to have them get you out of this house unless you start being a part of this family. Because that’s the way we view it. It’s one family. And if you’re here, you’re part of the family. We’ll treat you that way. So don’t try to be better, or don’t try to separate yourself from it.’ And I was enough of the family at that time that I could say that. “

One day, Pat called Patty to tell her he had a sick boy in his office, but he wasn’t sure whether or not he should bring him home. Patty told him to bring him along. They helped him to regain his health, and to further his education. Eventually, he became a doctor, and no one caught his illness.

Early in December, 1964, the Crowleys received a letter from the Vatican Secretary of State, A. G. Cicognara, saying: “The Holy Father had deigned to appoint you members of the Special Committee for studies on problems of population and birth control.”

Among the fifty-seven delegates were only three couples, all three wives incapable of conceiving. (After the difficulty with the birth of her fourth child, Patty could have no more children.) There were two single women on the panel, a physician from India and a demographer.

In the foreword to Robert McClory’s book, Turning Point, The inside Story of the Papal Birth Control Commission, Sidney Callahan commented upon the Church’s refusal to share the smallest measure of authority:

Looming above, beyond, and within this narrative is the larger question of the appropriate use of Church authority in determining morality for the whole Church Are the faithful to be consulted, or not? Is the Church to be run like a monarchy, or like a community of believers who constitute the people of God? The sad story of the Commission, how its recommendations were undermined and finally reputed by Paul VI in Humanae Vitae, reveals a disturbing and ongoing crisis in the use and abuse of Church authority.

The Crowleys had brought to the meetings more than three thousand letters solicited from Catholic married couples from eighteen countries, members of the Christian Family Movement. Many reported that the rhythm method was harmful to their marriage and Christian family life. Despite Patty’s plea from the floor, and a vote of 52 to 4 for a reform in Church teaching, members of the Curia saw fit to put aside the sacrifices, the hard work, prayers, and dedication of the Commission, and persuaded Pope Paul VI to reject the Commission’s vote.

Patty had spoken from her heart, to no avail:

On behalf of women in general, I plead that the male Church carefully consider the plight of at least one-half of its members, who are the first real bearers of these burdens. Couples are generous. Christian couples want to have children. It is the very fruit of their love for each other. When Marcelin. S.J., became worried about all the Catholics who had died under the law, he asked, “What then with the millions we have sent to hell if these norms were not valid?

Tradition has it that Patty answered, “ Father Zalba, do you really believe God has carried out all your orders? “

Patty told me she wasn’t too clear about whether or not she said it, and thinks it might have been Father Bernard Haring. It would be just like that humble, gracious theologian to give credit to Patty. No matter. It’s a great line, and speaks to the truth of the Church’s lack of compassion in holding the threat of hell over the heads of the silent, powerless women.

In 1976, a bishop who had questioned Andrew Greeley’s assertion that it was the birth-control encyclical, not the Council, that caused the decline of Catholic religious practice, met him in the Seven Continents Restaurant at O’Hare Airport and told him:

I had to say what I did. But I want you to know that I think you’re right.. Often, I can’t sleep at night because of what that -------encyclical is doing to my diocese.

It is unfortunate that Greeley didn’t reveal the bishop’s name. How inspiring it would be for the laity to hear a bishop with a conscience and compassion for the people whose spirituality has too often been placed on hold because of the chaos created by “that —encyclical.”

The Crowleys returned home, with Pat’s health in jeopardy ,due to the unusual case of cancer of the breast, which was treated, went into remission, only to return. He and the family faced the inevitable together, including the foster children.

When I visited with Patty in her home on the eighty-eighth floor of the John Hancock building, complete with a stunning, often glorious view of Lake Michigan, she appeared comforted by the fact that Pat had died at home in 1974, and his wake was at home, with people from all walks of life paying their respects and exchanging stories of how the great man with the infectious smile and laugh had enriched their lives.

While visiting one day, I noticed the furnishings reflected another time; the books on the shelves appeared faded and somewhat weary, as though Patty had begun to move into another place, and was just marking time at the Hancock.

Like Pat, Patty, too, died at home after a long illness, Nov. 23, 2005, at the age of 92, and her wake was also held there.

Her life can be summed up in the beautiful words Grandma Crowley expressed on the secret of living:

It is a blessed secret – living by the day. Anyone can carry his burden, however heavy, until nightfall. Anyone can do his work, however hard, for one day. God gives us nights to shut down the curtains of darkness on our little days. We cannot see beyond. Short horizons make life easier.

May God bless you and yours, dear friends, as we learn to live ever more trustingly with “short horizons.”

And, so we go on, with an Unfinished Symphony on the subject of contraception.

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