Today dawned with a weighted heart. Saturday, soccer game day, just like the day Phoebe died three weeks ago. I wonder if Saturday will ever feel different for me or any of us again. I watch the clock and remember the details of that day at specific moments. Will it always be this hard to wrap my head around this terrible nightmare? Tensions run high here sometimes. How can they not when everyone is missing her, wanting her? We're honest, at least, keenly aware that our barks at each other are really just a scream "Why?, How?" We ask each other questions "did I ever...?" "was I ...?" "should I have seen ...?" We shake our heads, no answers, assuring each other that we didn't cause this ...couldn't have prevented this. But what if? We're told over and over, this happens, out of nowhere ...a perfect storm they say. Everything converged in a moment's time ...gave that push that typically isn't there. But it was, and now this. This hole in our home. Not only in our home, but beyond. Friends struggle, bonded, entwined, they've lost a best friend ...the best friend ever ...the friend who made them laugh, see the adventure of life, made getting an ice cream a journey. A bike ride became a ride on a Harley, a swim turned into water ballet with the Loch Ness monster, hanging out became a giggle fest filled with song. Am I exaggerating ...no, this was Phoebe. So how, someone please tell me how, this girl with an incredible zest for life, did she arrive at place where life was not worth living? Phoebe could push every button I have all at the same time ...and do it again, right away. She pushed hard because she lived hard. In poker they call it "all in." Phoebe was "all in", all the time. I just do not, in any worldly way understand any of this. I'm still waiting to wake up!
But in a spiritual way ...I can grasp some of it. Not all certainly, but I can trust and understand. Still I cannot see signs that indicated what would happen, but I see other signs. I have my usual saints I talk to, pray to, implore. Other saints began making themselves known to me. Reading something that prompted a thought, a tilling of my heart, readying for a new planting, of what I had no idea. One that specifically stands out is St. Padre Pio. He has been following me for almost a year now. I have a good friend I've shared this with along the way. I'm not particularly drawn to Padre Pio, in fact, he sort of scares me. ...He holds nothing back, tells us to give it ALL to God. I prefer a saint more maternal, more akin to my preferences. I would be thinking of something, wrestling with my own conscience and would suddenly notice a picture, a statue of Padre Pio. It happened over and over. Once, I was going to confession and had something I really didn't want to discuss, but knew I had to. I was afraid a certain priest would know my voice (which doesn't matter, but I am human!), so I wanted my turn to happen with another priest. I looked up there was Padre Pio, I avoided his gaze by turning and there he was again. I remember being a bit annoyed. "How did he manage such a prominent position in this church?" I wondered. Later, when I headed to work, I noticed him on a shelf in the building, Just a little picture of him smiling. I first noticed it as I was grumbling to myself about my ungrateful children and how they didn't appreciate me ...there he was, calling my bluff, adjusting my perspective. I always greeted him from then on. But two days before Phoebe died, I passed him ...there were four images of him instead of just one. I called my friend, giggled. "Oh, I think Padre Pio knows something big will happen ...better watch out." Little did I know. I'm still not sure what his role is in my life ... He's known for extracting the last drop of hesitation from people who claim they have given all to God. What more could there be for me to give? I wonder? People will say, Carolyn, nothing more could be asked of you, nothing more could be given. Really? I think I can give more ...and keep giving. I freely give to God my Phoebe. I don't want to, it hurts way too much, but I will and I do, over and over. Every day we can give everything to Him. Today I'll give Him my trust. And I'll trust that He will be generous in guiding me. Over a week ago, a friend dropped a few things off for us ...she also left me a prayer book mark. I looked at it several times, but didn't read it ...until today. I think it was meant to wait for today. It's from St. Teresa of Avila (the one who said, "God, if this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few!) But it is a beautiful and soothing thought ...I hope you find that to be true as well:
Let nothing disturb you
Let nothing frighten you,
All things pass away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
He who has God
finds he lacks nothing
God alone suffices.
Thank you dear friend for giving this to me, and thank you St. Teresa of Avila. I will trust Him who has given me everything.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe, and may perpetual light shine upon her.
Three weeks is such a short, short time. Maybe that reliving hour-by-hour of the day Phoebe died will go on for who knows how long, but then become less frequent. Perhaps some future Saturday you'll skip a few hours, and maybe feel bad at the omission, as if it were disloyal. Eventually, hopefully, the replay button will be pushed less frequently and you'll feel good about feeling good on a Saturday. Thank God for our faith, because it gives us a firm conviction that while we're here with this linear view of time, Phoebe and all our loved ones are outside of the bonds of time. And we will see them again and reunite joyfully.
ReplyDeleteI love your thoughts on Padre Pio and his gift to us--not letting us off the hook so that we can finally be fully free to give.
ReplyDeleteI will be pondering this for a long time to come. Thanks.