Offer it Up!

It's funny how particular times of pain shift.  When Phoebe died that day, the whole earth shifted.  The pain was beyond words.  My heart felt like a bone, that was crushed, pressing inward.  My husband said his felt like pieces shattered in his chest.  That initial pain is gone, for now anyway.  What's left is an erratic trail of emotion that has its own life ...uncontrolled.  The pain of loss, the loss of Phoebe, is a journey I hadn't bargained for.  I like control, or at least a sense of where I headed.  I still do.  But I'm pretty sure I'm in for a bit of ride!  But there are places I arrive, both physically and emotionally, that offer a respite from the pain and an ascent to joy beyond words.  However, fleeting, they keep my hope fresh.
Last night, the Feast of All Souls, I was able to go to a Requiem Mass.  It is a Traditional Latin Mass (TLM) offered for the souls in Purgatory.  It was the kind of Mass (extraordinary form) I had wanted for Phoebe, but we decided an ordinary Mass would be best, given the number of people coming and most would not be familiar with the TLM.  It was certainly a beautiful, holy Mass and I think many people were struck by the reverence of her funeral.  So last night was an extra gift, because I could once again implore God's blessing on Phoebe, most especially His mercy, in the extraordinary form of the Mass ...a full Requiem Mass no less.
I was especially moved and comforted by the prayers offered on behalf of the poor souls.  In these prayers (which you will not find in an ordinary Mass) you are simultaneously begging for, and trusting in, God's immensely generous mercy.  The trend today is to assume, without any consideration, that when one dies they immediately go to Heaven.  But that simply is not true ...because Christ told us it is not true.  Most souls go to a state of purgation ...they go to Purgatory.  Some may immediately go to Heaven, like the baptized infant, unable to commit sin ...and others.  We can't say, because that rests between God and that particular soul.  Some even go to a place, too often forgotten or laughed about, called Hell ...where a soul is eternally removed from God's presence.  Christ spoke of this, quite a bit, too.
I can hope my daughter, still a child at the time of her death is in Heaven, but will pray and implore God as if she is in Purgatory ...for the rest of my life.  Knowing this, believing this, I was riveted by the prayers of the Requiem Mass because it is determined and expectant of God's mercy, while not being presumptive.  It made me think how much we have lost in a world that doesn't believe sin or hell are real.  When we don't live as though we could, by our own will,  be removed from God for all time, hell becomes unimportant.  Once that happens, and we casually, automatically assume our quick journey to our Creator, we stop praying for ourselves, each other, and most especially, our deceased relatives and friends who rely on our prayers to help them ultimately merit Heaven, by God's mercy.  This is terribly sad.  These prayers are treasures of the Church and I have shared them with friends I consider truly devout Catholics ...and they didn't know about them.  We should know prayers that are deliberate and begging.  They should be part of our life.  Pray without ceasing!
Pray always.  Offer your day, first thing, for the souls in Purgatory, for your children, your friends ...anything.
I used to think that living a life of prayer, living each breath for God, meant I had to be on my knees, totally engrossed in some mystical thought.  If I were a cloistered nun, perhaps.  But each of us, according to our state in life, can and should, offer everything we do back to God as a prayer.  We were laughing with friends tonight about the phrase,so familiar to us as children,  "offer it up."  But more, we were saddened to think that such a simple statement has been discarded from the Catholic vernacular.  In fact, there are massive graces to be received by such a simple, yet profoundly bold statement.  It doesn't mean, "shut up!"  It means, take that suffering, no matter how tiny (stubbing your toe) or large (losing your 17 year old daughter) and with a generous heart, offer it back to God.  It reminds us of where we've come from ...and where we're heading.  Most especially, it reminds us of those who've gone before us.  So if you could, perhaps offer up something small for my Phoebe.  I assure you, if she does not need it ....she will make sure someone who does, will.

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