Hush

It's late and the house has finally quieted.  Another snow day ...more forts to build, hot chocolate to make, mittens to dry.  All the fun and joy of this time of year, the thrill of school canceled ...freedom.  We are toasty warm, snuggled and at peace.  I look for her, my Phoebe, my missing girl ...this is her kind of day.  The snow, the bright clean white, the chill, the smell, the wood, the fire ...elements.  She loved the elements ...real freedom, things that didn't cost, but are freely given us by our Creator.  But the end of the day ...the late hour, the long settling ...that she didn't like.  Outrage could consume her if the littles were still up waaaaaaaaay past their bed time.  No, that she wouldn't like.  I look to the night sky with storm passed and see the bright stars, an almost full moon, her moon, and I ask her, "are you dancing on the moon Phoebe?"  And I can see her smiling.  Because those are the things that could befuddle her ...why couldn't she dance on the moon?  why were we so limited, confined by our bodies, our culture?  It's quiet so I can linger over those thoughts, about where she might choose to spend her time now ...on the moon, the tops of the trees, at the edge of the highest cliff ...that's where she'd likely be, taking in the exhileration of that different view, breathing in the air.  My Phoebe.
And today, it doesn't quite hurt so much ...brings a smile and a tug of admiration for this girl who so hated the boundaries of this fallen world.  If she could be anyplace it would be those places I just mentioned.  But if she could live at any time ....it would be when people bartered for goods ...helped each other out ...made do.  Don't get me wrong ...Phoebe was not terribly altruistic, but she saw the folly of consumerism, the mad race to gain possessions as definers of one's success.  I wish I had spent more time talking to her about that, letting her know how good I thought it was that at her age she could see the materialistic race as a dead end.  Maybe I didn't let her know that enough.  But I don't lament that now, for now.  Phoebe is where she is supposed to be. Big sister, watching over the others.
There was a good spread of three years between my first, second and third child.  But two more girls quickly came along giving us a trio that moved as one for years.  They snuggled, always.  Three beds in one room and only one bed was ever occupied.  Now they have more space, they've grown bigger, want more independence, freedom, privacy ....and still, they snuggle.  I'll go to give the final tuck in to find beds empty and others full ...with girls ...my trio ...with littlest fitting herself in, making four.  I listen to them late at night, hear them giggle.  I want them to be quiet, hushed ...and then I think "no, this is good."  They squabble, insult, tease and complain ...but in the quiet...they comfort and soothe, settle and calm the aching hearts these sisters carry.  I know the ache of a mother, but not the ache of a sister ...they do ...and together they will heal.  The moonlight shines in their room ...and I know Phoebe is with them ...her sisters. 
"Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted."  I think, yes, this is true.  We are hurting,  but God allows us the comfort of each other ...the comfort of snow days, laughter, remembering, knowing.  He reaches out to us through each other, works His wisdom, His love into our lives in the most curious of ways. I miss her, want her with me ...but I think she is.  In some peaceful way, I know she is.  And so I talk to her and walk with her through my day, like I did before.  She was a teenager, so before wasn't always peaceful.  There was lots of drama, worry, frustration ...but there were more and more sweet moments that bound our hearts together ...and it is there that I live again, remembering her smile, her laugh, encouragement.
One of my friends talks to her all the time too.  "You better be with your mother Phoebe."  She hears her back, "I am"  Good friends, love their friends' children in a very special way.  Phoebe knows this now, how much she was loved by so many wonderful, faithful women.  She knows ...that my own struggle to hang on to my faith and live it in this crazy, hostile world, is worth the fight ...always has been.
I like the quiet hush in the late night ...my time, to write, to pray and to be with one of the loveliest young ladies you could ever know.  Released from her struggle, free from the weight that dragged her down, buoyant in her new life ...she is lovely.  She really is. Peace is mine for now ...and I'll take that as a gift, a grace from the One who truly loves us as we are. 

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