Promise

My head is low as I move ever so slowly.  I trust and believe there is grace in Bethlehem.  I feel as though God, all the saints and angels have taken a step back from me.  "Feeling" it doesn't mean its true though.  He is there, they are all there.  I just believe.  People have asked me where I get my faith.  I've responded at times ...if I followed my feelings, allowed them to lead, I would have no faith.  My feelings about things would have me on a bus to wherever, angry, confused, fleeing this life.  Faith is a gift, an infusion of understanding, acceptance that I beg for every day.  I ask over and over for the gift of faith.  Years of practice have formed the habit of greeting God before my feet hit the floor, before my day heads off into the unknown travels of a busy household.  I beg God to put people, books, whatever can lead me, so that I might hold on for dear life ...to Him, my Creator. And I try my best to use the sacraments He's given us ...Mass, confession, marriage, the graces of baptism, all those immeasurable gifts that nourish and nurture.   Each step is not in perfect obedience, I don't dance all that well most days.  I have a mind and a will of my own.  Sometimes even, I believe through and through that I know better than Him.  Like now for instance, I'm pretty confident it would have been MUCH better for Him to leave Phoebe be, just let her be ...here with me.  Let her be here with her sisters ...hurting so much, missing her hard.
I'm bringing Phoebe to Bethlehem, not out of desire,  not out of feeling like making this arduous journey.
I'm bringing Phoebe to Bethlehem ...because a young woman, a girl really, said YES.  Mary said YES, knowing the worldly cost.  Because of her yes, Christ came, Our savior was born of her.  Because He was born of her, he lived among us and taught us His way, His Truth.  He didn't "adjust" to fit the culture.  He taught us how to live above and beyond the culture.  He taught us how to live for Heaven.  Because He taught us to live above and beyond the culture, heading for Heaven ...He was nailed to a cross.  Even Christ begged His Father that this cup should pass.  Even Christ.  Christ gave us every ounce of blood that ran through His human veins, every breath, including His last, was given up for us.  Because He did all this, we have the promise of forgiveness, the promise of mercy, justice ...the promise of Heaven.  If we believe this, if we live this, if we strive to be part of this story until it hurts, those promises are ours, for us.  But if we look at it like a quaint story, something we take down, read and say at times, "Oh, He didn't really mean that."  If we think we can use the culture as our compass, instead of Him, we simply collect dust on the story, and we forgo being part of the story.
I want eternal happiness in Heaven for my whole family ...for everyone.  That doesn't just happen.  We have to make the trip, follow His way.  I'm going.  I'll give it my all on this trip to Bethlehem, but I am going.  So my will, my desires of this world, my desire to be admired and respected by this world, must be cast off.  Hard?  Yes, especially for someone with my temperament!  If loving Christ, following Christ means being marginalized, pushed to the side as a bit "odd"  then please, let me be marginalized.  If loving Christ means sneers and rejection, then let it come.  If loving Christ means that I must, with great love, offer my daughter back to Him ...who gave her to me in the first place ...then please grant me the grace to loosen my hold, to let go of my will, let go of her, so that I might freely, radically give her back to God.  I'm heading to Bethlehem;  I'm heading towards the promise.

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