Grace

Slowly, I've been able to read again.  I don't know why it's been difficult for me, but it has.  I can read my prayer book.  Now I can read a story from a dad who lost his son, one of seven, over twenty years ago.  I read a little each night before bed.  His family's story is different than mine, but there are some things, many actually, that he mentions that resonate with my own experience.  Space is a big, big issue.  I never considered it before.  Space issues aren't my "thing"  ...ask my husband.  It's probably been one of his greatest challenges in marriage to me.  But now, I notice space ...empty space, where Phoebe is supposed to be.
I started writing about reading, so let me get back there.  One of the first thing we were given came from the support group for parent's who've lost a child.  Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief is a little book that offers a little gem each day.  I try to read that, and many times, it hits home with something weighing heavy.  Today's was touching and helped me tweak my perspective a bit.
"Shall we live in mystery and yet conduct ourselves as though everything were known."  (someone named Christopher Fry wrote this.)  In brief, it asks why we don't accept some simple little things that happen in life are little ways that God, or our loved ones are letting us know they are looking out for us.  "There is always reason for doubt. There is also room for faith and hope.  That is the nature of mystery."  So I've started paying closer attention to little things, while trying to not make more of something than it simply is.  Others have shared some things with me they were sure came from Phoebe, and truthfully, they do sound like her.  My sister-in-law told me that she was under a tree after the burial and acorns started plopping on her head, plop, plop, plop ...then a cascade.  She couldn't figure out where it was coming from, and then realized it was a Phoebe maneuver.  Yes, indeed, that is something Phoebe would have done.  She would have plopped them one by one,  then quickly grown bored and dumped the whole handful. 
For me, I've worried so much about her, the state of her soul ...things a Catholic mom puts at the top of her list for all her children.  Hundreds of thousands of Masses are being, have been, offered for her ...and still I worry.  I probably will until the day I die, but I try to be confident.  I've already scheduled two Masses for her at our local parish, last Saturday, and today.  Both times the priest did not offer those Masses for Phoebe.  It was really and understandable oversight that I understand.  Today, when it was clear she wasn't being verbally mentioned, I had a prompting that perhaps she didn't need this Mass and she was giving it to someone else.  At her funeral, Fr. Higgins, talked about God's time being radically ...completely different than our concept of time.  So the possibility, the hope, that God knew all these Masses were needed and were being offered, has allowed her to take her place in Heaven.  We can get into some heavy duty theology here ...and I am not gifted in explaining it well.  But I believe every ounce of it and hold it very dear. So I really thought about that all day.  I asked for a sign, something, anything that would assure me that Phoebe's soul was in a good place.
Later in the day, I was talking to a very special friend and telling her the best way for me to deal with this great loss was to say thank you, over and over, to God for allowing this.  In His infinite wisdom, knowing and being all eternity, though he did not will this for Phoebe or us, he allowed it ...  There is a reason here we do not know or understand and will not until our own end.  I fully and totally accept this and thank Him continually.  And it has brought me peace.  This friend knows me well, she has seen the barest parts of my heart, has walked with me through trials and challenges, has loved my children and shared my joys.  Her response was one of disbelief that I could be in this place so soon.  It wasn't because of me ...it was a gift, a grace of enormous proportions.  But as I responded, it came to me just why.  Phoebe lived with intensity, a fullness not shared by most.  She is truly an extraordinary soul, not without her faults and in no way perfect.  However, she had a force about her that is unmatched.  Her dad has said she could kick a soccer ball through a concrete wall.  Phoebe could be sheer power, and at times, it could be scary.  That personality doesn't change, those traits remain with the soul, but once with God are only used in the most pleasing way for Him.  Of course Phoebe, with sheer power and force, begs for her mother's peace.  Phoebe has prayed and requested that my vision not be clouded, that my gaze remain fixed.  I know this for two reasons, two experiences Phoebe and I share. 
First, though I would grow weary when Phoebe challenged me about my faith, our faith, I never rejected or reduced God or our beliefs in any way.  I told her that I would never deny God what was rightly His,  even for her.  God would always come first.  I think that both annoyed and comforted her.  But she saw that I would not, will not waver on the Truth.  I won't beat people up over it, but I will not accommodate anything that undermines or dismisses my faith. Period!  I'm not saying I get it all right all the time, but I certainly aim for that and in my humanity, I falter.  So Phoebe knows I strive for the Truth in all things.
The second reason I know this is a bit more "of this world."  When Phoebe was seven or eight, she insisted on going on a ride at a carnival that I thought she wouldn't like. (by the way, I do not like carnivals).  She insisted, and she was an adventurous kid, so I relented.  I watched as the ride picked up speed and took on a life of its own.  I watched only her face, huddled next to her big brother who had his arm wrapped tightly around her.  The look she had was sheer terror.  With three little ones in tow, I climbed the stairs to the "ride guy."  I screamed "Stop the ride".  He laughed, "Lady, I can't stop the ride ...two more minutes"  "Stop the ride" I screamed again.  "My daughter is on that and she is terrified, let her OFF!"  Over and over.  He moved the gears, the ride slowed, then stopped.  He opened the door for her and out she flew into my arms.  He moved the gears again and the ride resumed, while Phoebe calm and safe stood by my side with her little sisters.  Now, in fairness, I probably was nursing and had leaking breasts through my shirt.  He probably thought I was a lunatic and he would be killed by the "breast milk lunatic"  if he didn't do exactly what I hysterically commanded.  (I got out of a speeding ticket once due to this!)  Phoebe saw me rescue her when she needed it.  I imagine she is returning the love her mother showed her in that particular instant.  In fact, maybe she is saying "God, I gotta be real clear here, I've seen her before ...You could have a real bad situation on your hands ...just be glad she's not nursing anyone and shower her with a whole lot of grace ...please!"  Are these little, or big signs, from Heaven?
Now another interesting thing happened. People have been overwhelmingly generous with preparing meals for our family.  And it has been wonderful because it covers a very tender, vulnerable time in our day ...the time everyone came home ...the time Phoebe would arrive home from school and soccer.  Hearts sag around this time and there is lots of hugging and holding for me to do at I time I would normally make dinner.  We had so much from last night left over ...another full casserole (we are being very well loved and cared for!), while another dinner was being delivered.  I thought I would share the wealth with a dear friend who has a busy afternoon schedule, about 4000 children (she's a crazy Catholic, go figure?) and has fed me so many times during my excursion to nursing school last year.  I called her house, spoke with her daughter and told her I would try her cell phone (that she has had for about ten years, but has only started using in the past two months and now can't stop texting!).  I called her cell phone once.  Her daughter called her cell phone once.  We never made contact.  All of a sudden she is at my door, winded.  I wave to her as I am on the phone to come in.  She steps in and puts a finger up ...she is composing herself.  "Come up, I have something for you!"  "Carolyn, is everything okay, Mary called me and said you called and then I saw you had called my cell phone a few times and I thought you MUST need me right away.  I tried calling your house and it wouldn't go through.  I was heading into the grocery store to get something for dinner, I had so little time before picking up the boys, but when I saw you had called so many times I got really worried."  I asked her "Did you go shopping?"  "No, I left right away to come here, I thought you must have needed me."  I pulled the casserole from the fridge and put it on the counter in front of her.  Her head dropped and then she looked up at the ceiling, smiled and sighed.  "Phoebe knew we had dinner here for you."   My friend may have been able to BUY the ingredients for supper,  but she didn't really have the time to MAKE dinner.  And here, this little sign, this little taking care of another mother, who had mothered her so many times, opened her home and heart to Phoebe so many times, in a very funny way was being given something she really needed on this very night.  And the way it happened would have made Phoebe smile and chuckle.  I know where she would stand and how she would move ...how she would fill that space.  She really is still filling it, just in a totally different way. 
These are little graces, big graces really, that assure us that those in Heaven are among us.  I'll rest on that tonight ...and say thank you!