St. Lucy

Today is the feast of St. Lucy.  We have our very own resident, Lucy ...so it makes the day even more special.  Our morning starts with steaming hot chocolate and pastry.  I'm glad we've spent the years celebrating the feast days of this holy season.  That history has made this a time well remembered and appreciated in our home.  I've tried a few different ways to approach Christmas.  Long ago, not a ribbon or ornament would be seen ...until the children would awaken to a Christmas morning in a home transformed over night.  I've never taken that approach, I just hear stories of it.  There is a somber element to Advent as we seek to restore our own soul to be fitting to greet the birth of our Savior.  I know times were different then.  In the past, we've enjoyed the feast days, while remaining rather subdued for most of the season until just days before Christmas.  This year, I've let loose a bit more.  We need the joy, the anticipation of a miracle ...found in the manger.  My kids are laughing ...they are living ...and living well.  St. Lucy has blessed them with the joyful sight of the Christmas promise.  I'll take that ...and be grateful.  It lifts my own heart to see theirs still full of love and life for each other and for their sister.  We have many fun and happy memories of this season together.  While we wrestle with this blinding blow ...the irrational reality of Phoebe not here with us ...leading us in so many ways, we remember the times past.  While I long for her ...a new definition of intensity and desire take hold.  I want to spend Christmas with Phoebe.  How can I do that?  I'm carrying her to Bethlehem in hopes I'll find out how to spend that time with her. 
St. Lucy is the patron saint of vision.  We ask her to help us "see" the blessings around us.  St. Lucy, help me "see" the treasures placed gently on my path.  Gifts from God ...even before Christmas have been carefully placed in my life.  I'll share two that moved me beyond words and though I did not get to see Phoebe ...Heaven opened just a glimpse for me to know she is with me.
Every year families who've lost a child gather together to remember those we've loved, and continue to.  No one expects to lose a child ...even after a long illness.  The shock and hollowness leave us dizzy, alone, afraid, confused ...desperate.  Everyone experiences these things ...emotions run wild when you've lost a precious child.  So gathering together with those who share this road is poignant.  Nods towards each other convey the depth of pain, the darkness we've felt.  No words are needed really.  Lots of hugs, tears, we grow to love each others' children ...children we've never known.  I'm new at this, but already there are bonds among some of these parents of different faiths, circumstances.  We carry this burden together. Music unleashes the dam ...and the emotions run clean and powerful.  Candles are lit remembering them ...these souls
This candle says I love you, this candle says I miss you
This candle is saying I remember you
When I'm holding it toward Heaven
It feels like you are near
If you're looking down tonight and see this candle burning bright
It says I'm wishing you were here.
In the glow of this candle I can almost see your smile
And it carries me away for a little while
To another time, another place 
When all it took to light up my world was your beautiful face
Around us are families who've shared the same kind of heartache we have.  Hearts and souls poured out in lavish love for a child, dashed without warning.  We know, we just know, what the other carries ...we know the lost futures, the lost moments ...the tugs that wear us thin, making us weak and weary.  We light our candles and trust in the God who loves us to love our lost one's even more.  "Do not say goodbye, just say goodnight." rings through ...okay, I think, I can do that ...continue to tuck Phoebe in each night as I had for so long, and as I still do with my others. 
As we entered we hung an ornament for our child on a Christmas tree, and on the way out, we take another, for a child we don't know.  We'll hang it there among the ones collected over the years.  All seventeen of Phoebe's decorate the tree ...keeping her close, reminding us that she was here.  Mingling we make our way into the gathering space ...exchange more hugs, squeezes,  "we'll make it through"  we promise each other.  Us first timers get the extra hugs, the encouragement, advice.  My husband wants to know who has Phoebe.  Where will she hang this Christmas?  No way to know in this crowded room.  We don't know the family of ours either.  They're first timers too, he died in 2010.  I want to know them.  Across the room, a smile makes its way towards us.  "Guess who I will hang on my tree?" "You have Phoebe?"  "I do!, and I am so happy." says Joy's mother.  There she is again, that blessing of Joy.  We know where Phoebe will be ...in the arms of a mother whose girl lived life in a bathing suit all summer long ...just like Phoebe! (read the post on Joy for more info.)
The blessing of that satisfies me enough for now.  I am grateful.
As if that wasn't enough of a grace, I received another.  God has been abundantly generous.  Soon after Phoebe died, I thought of how to give to her this Christmas.  In the past we've sponsored a child in India, helping their education and their families.  Fr. Nellie is a priest who visits most summers.  He has a parish in India where there is tremendous poverty ...but incredibly rich faith.  He told us once that people will wait in line for hours to go to confession ...regularly.  Imagine!  He is a wonderful priest who humbles us.  We Americans complain about ridiculous inconveniences, and then he shares stories of his people.  He doesn't try to trump us, or put us in our place.  He simply shares stories of life in his parish ...and we are humbled ...immeasurably.    Somehow we got out of the habit of sponsoring that child.  I thought of that after Phoebe died, how it would be fitting to sponsor a child again ...in her name.  But, I'd lost the contact information and though I know people who could get that for me I just never followed up.  It was weighing heavy on me today ...I needed to do that soon.  The mail arrived, with a letter to us from Fr. Nellie.  He doesn't know yet about Phoebe, but he sent a note to us anyway, asking that the infant Jesus would bless us with peace and joy this season.  His return address prominent, legible ...leading, guiding.  Phoebe will get her gift, in time for Christmas. And I will get mine because I know Mass will be offered for her among these faithful people in this faraway place.  The Mass is always the greatest gift for me ...because I know Phoebe is always there.
When I am discouraged, I can't see what God is offering.  That's natural in grief.  But when I can open my heart to trust Him ...He is there.  He knows my broken heart, the depths of my sorrow.  "That's why I wept as I did in the garden, Carolyn ...for your heart ache ...the pain you would suffer."He seems to say to me.  I want to believe all He has to offer me.  I don't want to doubt or question.  I want to believe Phoebe is right near me ...loving me right back.  I just want her ...like I've never wanted anyone.  He offers me these little, but big, signs ...these early Christmas gifts.  He encourages me on the way to Bethlehem.  I'll keep heading that way ...following the shadow of the Blessed Mother.  She's never led me astray.
So, with Phoebe decorating Joy's family tree, and Fr. Nellie sending his Christmas wishes and blessings ...I know I'm being cared for ...in ways beyond this world, beyond this understanding.  I am grateful.  Thank you God, for Your abundant generosity.


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