Sisterhood

For several years now I have been blessed with an incredible gift of friendship.  Two of them have been by my side since I was 15.  Others have joined along the way, many of them enriching my faith life and helping me head home ...to God, as I journey through this life.  I would say that what I have in friendship is truly extraordinary.
I mention this because as I implore the Blessed Mother to reveal herself to me, she has gently tilted my head to see her.  Not in person, of course, but through my friends.  It's as if they all got together and orchestrated this great play where the timing is seamless and the words are perfected.  But its not, its just the authenticity of real friendship.  Last night I was granted an opportunity to pray before the tabernacle, alone, while my children were occupied in beautiful ways.  Before Him, I offered the prayers for a happy death from the 1962 missal.  It filled me with a peace and assurance that settled some of my fears and doubts.  At least I could know that in God's timelessness, He heard me and received my precious girl, wrapping her in love.  Of course, no answers were given, no great understanding of how this tremendous cross was deemed appropriate for this fragile mother.  But some consolation rested on me.  It was all made possible through friends.
One thing I try to do when I talk to people, particularly those dear to me, is to look them in the eyes.  I don't always succeed.  I notice it too when others do that with me ...and my friends do.  After I prayed, I was waiting in my car for the return of my children and another long-time friend I don't get to spend much time with pulled up.  We're both raising large families, live in different towns.  But we share a common mission ...to get our children to heaven.  And she loved Phoebe.  She joined me in my car and we shared about five minutes together.  I can't remember the words we shared, but I do remember her gaze ...most especially her heart ...that held my pain for me for just a bit.  It's been like that. And that's what I mean, I guess, when it seems they have together orchestrated their time with and for me.  Every so often, at just the right time, someone steps in and carries my pain for me ...for just a bit.  The relief is tremendous ...just enough to keep on.
A friend calls and just lets me talk, she listens so well.  She's known me a long, long time and never judges.  I think in some ways we see the world differently, but we've loved each other completely for decades ...and she is here, and I am so glad.
Another sends a text just about every night as I head to bed.  Her eyes red from so many tears and such agony that dreadful day, she met me at the hospital as I said goodbye to my girl.  She came shortly after another dear one who stood with me as I gazed upon my daughter, and listened as I sang a sweet song of "Gentle Woman" to Phoebe.  Phoebe and I share a really funny story about that song ...a beautiful song.  One day we met a man at a Grotto and he approached us to tell us he thought the melody to that song was all wrong. He sang the words to his own melody (which was horribly chaotic!).  Politely we moved away and burst into laughter and agreed that a finer melody couldn't be found for this beautiful song.  So as I sang to her in its appropriate melody, it was bittersweet, and I wonder if Phoebe was sending me a simple memory to ease my own suffering. But this friend stood by and watched me say goodbye.
Friends whose hearts are broken nearly as much as mine ...who loved my daughter like their own, welcomed her into their hearts and homes, kindled the friendship with their own children.  Years of love layered upon love.  To see their hearts broken too saddens me so much.
There are others who deserve notice.  Over time I hope to tell everyone how grateful I am for all they have done ...for the weight they have carried for me.
I know too that my husband and kids observe this remarkable group of women ministering to all of us.
"I don't know what we would have done without your friendships."  My husband has said many times.
Nor do I dear man, nor do I.
I have been kept afloat, my gaze on eternity kept affixed, the promise of hope nourished by the Church Militant here on earth, my beloved friends.
How could I ever be grateful enough?  To be the sister God calls all of us to be is the only answer I know.