Agape

Last night, I used the word agape, as an adjective, two syllables,(jaw dropping) to describe moments on Christmas morning when complaints seemed ...out of context.  But that word as a noun has another, more powerful meaning ...three syllables, ah gah pay,... it means ....love ...the kind of love that one cannot fully describe.  It comes from the Latin (I am no scholar here!).  God's love for us ...agape.  As I reread, it struck me that I had used that word ...another little link to this mystery of death, life ...abandonment, fullness.
I think of the Blessed Mother, coming to know her, understand her and her way.  She was prepared for her life from before her creation.  Immaculately conceived, without concupiscence, a tendency toward sin, she is indeed the perfect tabernacle for the savior.  In her human perfection, she still experienced human emotion ...love, joy, pain, sorrow of deepest proportion, loss ...yet, how she differed from us, who tend toward sin, toward our own selfishness, is she never doubted God ...she always accepted, always trusted ...always, always.  How I wish I could be there.  The best I can do is imitate her over and over.  I fail ....I try again.  I fail ....I try again.  It will always be, but I trust and believe that God is pleased with my effort.  I can only imagine how often He shakes His head at me, seeing my stubborn pride guiding me so often.  But I also imagine He relishes in the effort of my heart.
Blessed Mother abandoned everything to God ...she emptied herself ...radically.  I cannot begin to imagine what that was like ...is like.  I hold on to so much ...cling for dear life to the things I know and love ...but they must be let go.  Phoebe must be let go.  I don't want to but He is giving me the tools, the bridges, the path to Bethlehem that lead me to that sacred place where all can be given back to Him ...that place ...agape.  I've shared many of those signs along the way, revealed some bared bones, raw wounds that can't be bandaged.  Some of them will always be there, but some will be healed.
I've shared of the young Franciscan who taught Phoebe to smell the manger, see the hay, the golden bedding for our King.  He taught her to listen to the breath of the animals as they warmed Him.  This young priest taught her how to be at the Nativity.  I listened, wanting her to take it all in, hear him, remember his words.  We want our children to believe with every fiber, every cell of them that Christ came for them.  I've thought of that over the past few years, remembering the intensity of his gaze on her. Her own eyes fixed on him as she nodded her head.  She had said nothing of it after to me ...which told me she had heard, had believed.  Was that a treasure given to us both those years ago?  Did it bring us to the place we would both desire to be one Christmas day?
I believe Phoebe will be at the Nativity on Christmas, for a long time I've believed that, known in some way she would kneel at the crib.  She would smell the hay, see the animals, the glory of the newborn King.  I've prepared my heart to be there too, asking, begging as I make my way to Bethlehem.  And yes, He is always generous.  I've expected nothing ...it would reside in my heart and head, because I forget.  Yet, another treasure offered, one I could never have thought to ask for, designed.  A gift from Him, perhaps from Phoebe too.  An invitation.
Two miles down the road is a farm.  A beautiful, old farm that rolls down a grand hill.  Llamas, belted cows, pigs, chickens, horses, goats ...gardens.  It is a gem ...a generous place that invites all those around here to dig hands into earth.  Working there is a young woman who endeared my heart the moment I met her.  She's taught my kids so much about our surroundings, read them stories, put them to work ...  It was in this place that Phoebe was to spend her last three months of her senior year.  Working the farm as her internship under Meg's guidance.  Her heart hurt bad when she learned of Phoebe.  "No way, not you guys"  she had said. "Farmer Meg" as she is known in this house, has watched this family grow.  "Hey man, you guys are crazy, but I think you're just about the coolest family I know" she'd say when she learned yet another Walsh was to be born.  I love this girl ...she's the real deal!  Anyway, she came over yesterday with  her incredibly adorable little one.  I asked her what her plans were for Christmas.  She gets to feed the animals at the farm that day.  "I love it ....I get to escape all the craziness and just hang with the cows and the chickens ...its peaceful.  Want to come?"  I stopped.  "Yes.  YES!  I want to come and help you feed the animals."  I told her about my travel to Bethlehem, leaving Phoebe there and how it would be perfect ...like I was going to the manger.  "Hey, whatever works.  We can all hang out at the manger."  And once again, I am stunned at what God offers me ...and I haven't even arrived yet.  I can smell what Phoebe smells, hear the breathing of the animals as Phoebe will, see the glow of the hay, just as she will.  I will share Christmas with her in a way I never imagined.  Tell me, just try to tell me, that God is not all generous, all loving, all knowing.
After Christmas Mass,  is there a more perfect way for me to spend Christmas day?  I think not!
I am not dragging down this road, hesitant ...I am running as my heart begins to swell, begins to beat a different rhythm ...a glad, grateful beat to the sounding of my coming Savior.  I am giving my Phoebe to a God who knows no limits.  He will throw me in the fire of sorrow and loss, burning away the trappings of worldly love, so that He may begin to fill my heart with the only thing that matters .... Christ, Himself.  Agape!

And as we ready ourselves for the Christ child, may I ask you to please pray for an expectant mother, Kelly. A prayer intention for her is on the sidebar.  Hold her and her baby close.  

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