Hesitant

Today begins my journey to Bethlehem. First day of Advent. First day of the new liturgical year ...the Church's New Year. I don't feel much like starting a new year. I don't feel much like making this journey. The end of it calls me to place Phoebe in the manger with the infant Savior, Christ, my King, our King. I packed and am ready ...but, oh so hesitant. It will be a hard journey for sure, a lonely one. I'll probably want to turn back, maybe try to get lost along the way. I'll wrestle with lots of frustration, confusion, but mostly pain and sorrow. Why should I have to bring my daughter, so young, so loved and leave her there, in the manger? There is no justice in this journey, no joy. So, why I am I so determined to make this difficult trek, carrying my daughter in my heart and leaving her there. I can't really explain. It just seems right. More than that, I am convicted, certain it is right.
This morning, my youngest, told another that "Phoebe needs to get out of Mom's heart. She is pounding really, really hard because she needs to get out." Shared as a cute story, it struck me. I've thought about this, her need to be set free, the need for me to set her free. I've had fleeting images of Phoebe, she is never smiling at me. She is weighted, concerned. Her expression is the same as when she knew I didn't fully understand something ...when she was patient with me. There is no impatience in her face for me now ...just concern. The image I had of her Thanksgiving night outside alone. Phoebe did not smile at me. In the few dreams I've had she's been distant, somewhere else to be ...never smiling, not angry, not speaking, just showing concern in her eyes ...a deep awareness of me. With Mary Claire saying that to another sibling, I wonder what she senses that I don't. Phoebe wants me to let her go? How could that be? Wouldn't she want to be held onto for all time, until we reunite? Part of me feels rejected ...certainly by her death, but more even now as this sense of her need for me to release her builds. I cannot just leave her, say "ok, bye for now." Then, just move on. Yet, that is what I must do. But how do I? I have to trust that God, with whom I am quite angry, has a plan, that He sees and desires my wholeness and fullness with Him. I have to believe that my children are better off for all eternity ...because of ...despite ...this nightmare. That is so so hard. How do I tell my weeping child, desperately missing their sister, their best friend, that really this is all for the best? How? Does this show at all the merciful, just God I've taught them to love? These are questions beyond hard ...they are impossible to answer, irrational. But there is an answer ....and He has a name, Christ our Savior. Impossibly conceived in the womb of a virgin. Irrationally born among animals in a manger ...because His own didn't even notice their own rejection of Him. Unbelievably nailed to a cross, hung to die, mocked and spit upon. This is my King, Phoebe's King. I want to find my way to the manger, so I can take my place at the foot of the cross with true contrition and pure love for the One who died for me. I don't pretend to understand. I don't claim wisdom. But I follow my faith and its promise. "Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1 And so my prayer, my insistent prayer, is this: "Lord, make me know your ways. Lord, teach me your paths. Make me walk in your truth, and teach me: for you are God my Savior."

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace, Amen.