The fourth-grader who 'fell in love' with Catholicism

Let's just say Abigail Lee Douglas, age 9, was wise and fearless beyond her years.

When Abby’s parents, Sarah and Bobby Douglas, decided this past summer to switch their daughter from a New Orleans public elementary school to St. Ann School in Metairie for fourth grade, they were not at all worried about her ability to make new friends – at what might be considered an awkward age – because they knew all about her winsome personality.

The Douglases’ only fear was what might happen in religion class one day when they were not around to serve as an Abby thought filter.

“She’s very bold, and if she doesn’t agree with something, she’s going to tell you,” Sarah said.

As Episcopalians, Abby and her family were friends with Rev. Liz Embler-Beazley of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in New Orleans. Of course, Sarah reminded her daughter, there are no female priests in the Catholic Church.

“Well, I just don’t like that,” Abby told her mom.

“I know, you don’t have to agree with it, but we’re not going to fight with Father Billy (O’Riordan) about it at school,” Sarah said, laughing about their mother-daughter chat that was intended to ward off any potential ecclesiastical fireworks.

The amazing thing about Abby is that when she entered 850-student St. Ann in August, she knew only one other girl in her class – a fellow transfer student named Lily who had been her friend on a local cheer team. Lily was frightened about attending her new school.

“Abigail was like, ‘You don’t have to be frightened, I’m with you,’” Sarah said. “And, you know what, they just conquered it together.”

On Oct. 22, a driver whose blood-alcohol level was reported by police to be nearly three times the legal limit slammed into the back of the Douglases’ stationary Toyota SUV going between 60-70 mph. Sarah was driving – they were on a mother-daughter date – and Abby was buckled up in the third row.

Two days after the wreck – “I refuse to call it an ‘accident,’” Sarah said – Abby died at University Medical Center. After initially thinking their daughter might have some glimmer of hope to recover in the 36 hours after the collision, the Douglases clung to the tangible reality that their daughter’s death had saved at least six lives.

Abby’s blood vessels were donated, rare in organ donation. Her heart went to a young boy. Her liver went to a teenage girl. One of her kidneys went to a woman and the other to a man under the age of 40. Abby’s skin was donated. Her eyes are being used for research. Her bone marrow is being stored until a matching patient needs it.

“We didn’t say no to anything,” Sarah said. “Six lives have been saved.”

There were other miracles in Abby’s 2 1/2-month tour de force at St. Ann. The little girl whose smile could light up a room became friends with cafeteria workers, who knew, because Abby told them, how much she loved their salads.

“She was just a shining light, and we feel blessed to have had her for that short, little amount of time,” said St. Ann principal Lindsay Guidry, who recalls Abby pleading with her to let her ring the handbell ending recess.

Abby became so impressed with St. Ann’s routine of around-the-clock prayer that she quickly memorized the prayers that her Catholic classmates had years to practice.

And then, one day, Abby came home with a loaner rosary from teacher Stephanie Brennan and a small booklet that explained how to pray the rosary. Abby took her seat in the middle of the living room sofa. Her father was playing a video game with Abby’s younger brothers Jack, 7, and Luke, 4. Sarah suggested that it might be better to wait until after dinner or maybe just before bedtime.

“She told all of us, ‘Turn off the TV. We have to do this as a family – right now,’” Sarah said.

Honoring God’s name
Over those 10 weeks at St. Ann, Abby soaked up every Catholic ritual and devotion – as well as a few dos and don’ts. Brennan explained to Abby’s mom that they were trying to discourage Abby from using the expression, “Oh, my God!” because, well, that’s not the Catholic understanding of how to properly use God’s name.”

“She just fell in love with Catholicism once she was at St. Ann’s,” Sarah said.

  Bobby, Abby’s father, said his language had been too salty around the house, and now, all of sudden, Abby was challenging him on it.

“I have a tendency to do that more than I should,” Bobby said. “She would come home and say, ‘Dad, Dad, I want to become Catholic, because when you become Catholic, you don’t curse. You won’t stop cursing, so I think you should become Catholic, too.’”

“If anybody in our family said ‘God’ or ‘Jesus Christ,’ she would get really mad and say, ‘You can’t do that. That’s a disgrace to God,’” Sarah said. “I can’t explain it. She went into school thinking she wasn’t going to like it because women couldn’t become priests, and then she came out just in love with the religion.”

After hearing from Brennan how much Abby loved the rosary, Guidry, St. Ann’s principal, visited the family in the hospital, bringing with her a special rosary.

“Abby had always wanted her own rosary,” Sarah said. “We wrapped it on her hands.”

During their prayer vigil with the family, Father O’Riordan and Father Michael Lamy, St. Ann’s parochial vicar, confirmed Abby and anointed her.

“Abby’s mom kept asking, ‘So is she a Catholic now?’” Father O’Riordan said. “She asked three times, and we told her, ‘Well, Abby, you are Catholic now, and this is what you want. So you can go to God.’”

As parents saying goodbye to their eldest child, the Douglases needed that assurance. Sarah and Bobby spent Abby’s last 36 hours alternating turns lying with her in the bed.

“Being Catholic was important to her,” Sarah said. “That was one of her last wishes, one of her dearest wishes. I wanted to make that a reality for my baby.”

“Then, we told her she didn’t have to hold on for us,” Bobby said.

Small miracles for life
The Douglases believe their prayers were answered because Abby survived long enough – her bleeding in the brain had decreased – to allow them time to arrange for the multiple organ donations. They have been overwhelmed by the response from the St. Ann community and other Catholic schools across the archdiocese.

It’s been simple things: a meal train, phone calls and texts, Mass cards, a plan for a prayer bench near a Mary prayer garden at school and even something as thoughtful as having Jack’s second-grade boy classmates meet him outside of school on most mornings and escort him to his homeroom.

That used to be Abby’s duty.

Other moms offered to make Jack a costume for “Dress as a Saint” Day.

“I went to Loyola for college, and they used to talk about how Catholicism means, ‘Welcome, everybody,’” said Sarah, an attorney. “Bobby and I have seen that principle put into reality. When tragedy happened to our family, the entire archdiocese has lifted us up and wrapped their arms around us.”

A mother’s wakeup message
Sarah’s prayer is that anyone who is mulling a decision to get behind the wheel of a car while under the influence of alcohol or drugs will remember her daughter’s shining face. A message from a Facebook mom said that actually happened at a recent concert when she overheard two female concertgoers, obviously drunk, talking about how they might get home.

The mother whipped out her phone and showed them Abby’s face. Another corporal work of mercy performed in honor of a 9-year-old Catholic.

Sarah, herself, will become Catholic soon, and perhaps the rest of the family.

“I just don’t know everything I need to do, but it’s definitely something I want to do,” she said. “After all of this, Bobby said, ‘I really want to start going to church.’”

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