New memories will only be made if we let them. And so ...off we go. Not as easy as I'd thought it could be. It feels a bit like betrayal ...but I know for sure it's not. One of my daughters asked me when we would go back to being the way we used to be, before Phoebe died. How do I answer that question? We will never go back there. That time of our family's life is now part of our past. It will take time, but we will one day feel normal again ...the "new normal" they say. Our memories all include that feisty girl. We need some new ones, so when we see her again she will smile at us for the life we went on to live ....I believe that through and through. And I know that God wants us to embrace the gifts, the grace he has for us. Our fists are clenched ...we need to open wide, unfurl those fingers to receive Him, to let Him take us by the hand and lead us into this next chapter of our life. We will put aside the distractions, the connections, that pull us away from each other ...and just be ...the new family we are. I wouldn't choose this if I had a choice ...but I will do all I can to accept and practice gratitude ...seeing the gift, the blessing even in the struggle, the loss.
While we strive to live unplugged ...I'll be praying for everyone who reads here. I'll be back ...with some new memories ...
Tonight I will pray the first Glorious Mystery for you and all your intentions ... Christ rises from the Dead ...
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Hope Ahead
There's lots of things racing through my head ...but it all comes back to God. There is no sense in this world without Him. Frustration settles around me as we make our way raising this family, keeping Christ at the center while finding no sense of Him beyond a very very small circle And yet, there is the profound, tangible blessing of people in our lives that serve Him so well, with great love, devotion and obedience.
Beyond these blessings is a culture so full of vulgarity, intemperance, and an inability to promote, appreciate or even recognize the truly beautiful. This thought was pointed out by our pastor this weekend. He cites the writing of Anthony Eselon, a professor at Providence College. Eselon examines how our culture has become so base that it destroys one's ability to recognize true beauty ...truth in life. Look around, turn on the TV, glance at most magazine covers, listen to the lyrics of the most popular music ....does it pronounce or promote true beauty? Does any of it reflect the beauty of God? Elevate talent to give glory and praise? Think long and hard about those questions ...and then consider raising your children in this environment. Where is this all taking us?
Last night a friend shared an observation that reflects where we are all going ...who we, as a culture, are becoming. "Remember" he said, "when we were younger and a funeral procession would pass by. Cars would stop, walkers would stop ...pause, give the courtesy of recognizing a life that had passed. If it was clear the person was a veteran, hands would be placed on the heart." Yes, I remember. Now, no one pays any mind. Cars cut through the procession ...paying no courtesy. It's one simple observation that speaks volumes. What are we caring about these days?
Those of us trying to raise our kids with good, strong fiber, far too often stand alone ...seemingly archaic, unrealistic, overly protective. We limit computer, TV, movies, music ...we pay attention to the tightness of clothing, the shortness of skirts, trying to preserve dignity, a true sense of self, modesty ...and we stand alone.
We expect time together as a family, regular prayer, belief in our obligations to God, the seriousness of our responsibility to Him ...and we stand alone. We explain to our children that while the world tells them to try out multiple partners for compatibility, and the younger you start the better ...that physical intimacy is for marriage, designed beautifully to participate in creation ...and we stand alone.
And while I have been extraordinarily blessed with friendships that share these ideals ...our every days are not together. We are separate, standing alone, imperfectly seeking, striving to serve God and give Him what is rightly, justly His. Our voices are far too often ridiculed, looked on as peculiar, old fashioned. But the Truth does not change over time ...it transcends time. Some truth changes, like "it is high tide right now." Certainly it will not be high tide in six hours ...so that kind of truth changes. But God's truth never, ever does ...regardless of the changing culture, fashion, desires. Just because we grow tired of certain truths doesn't mean they cease to exist, or even that we cease to be bound to them.
Once we give way, and take upon ourselves to 'change' the truth, we damage our ability to recognize it. Finally, we will cease to recognize true beauty ...because truth no longer exists in our minds, in our worlds. This is what Eselon describes ...we become Godless ...a perversion of beauty takes root ...and anything can then be called beautiful ...even a dress made of meat!
But alas, there is hope ...and that is where we can find God ...in this hope. When I watch my girls among friends from similar families ...the interaction is radically different ...it is pure, laughter flows freely, encouragement abounds, phones get put away, they sing, they dance ...they live. No one worries about the brand of shoes, if there hair looks okay ...if they "fit in." Why, here in this safe haven ...even parents are acceptable. The word "no" isn't a form of assault against a child's rights. Limits and boundaries may not be liked, but they are accepted, not argued over. So very different than relationships that are more focused on the culture, where an intense pressure to be accepted presides.
In these tiny glens of friendship Christ reigns ...His name doesn't even need mentioning ...because it is naturally ordered to Him. It is right. Oh, how I wish we could all live together without the distractions and lies of this world. Don't get me wrong, there is so much beauty around us, so many wonderful people around us and far beyond. But let's be honest ....can anyone defend the current TV programming ...cable or network?
For sure there is hope in these friendships ...and like the spider's web, a delicate, fragile, but certain weave makes it way far beyond us. Our connections, connect to others ...and so forth, creating a frame for goodness and beauty to one day take hold again in this lopsided world.
Several years ago, my husband and I joined in a wedding celebration ...the daughter of our good friends. We were so thrilled to be part of an event that unfolded over many months, filled with lots of consideration, prayer ...and hope. It was in the process of this wedding taking place that I stood in awe and with such gratitude as I saw the love of two families intertwine as they each presented their child to be married. They married younger than most these days ...but with wisdom and assurance, often lost on couples much older than them.
Today we spent the day with this couple and their three beautiful children ...and soon to be baby number four.
I am twenty years older ...and tired ...but they give me such hope for the future, and just by being themselves they offer promise to my kids. And while they themselves are such an incredible example and witness ...they arrived where they are today because of four very strong, principled people ...their parents. Two of them are dear friends of ours ...and I dare say that without these two people, along with their crew of eleven amazing children (yes, that's right ...eleven ...and yes, that's right too ...amazing) my own family may not have made it this far since losing our precious Phoebe. If every parent could spend ten minutes with this couple, I believe we could change the world ...and put it on course toward the ideals, principles and virtues that make a culture good and right. They do not have the microphone, the spotlight, the stage ...but, if they did, we would all benefit.
The other set of parents, I've met a few times. And though I do not claim to know them in any strong way, I know enough to say they do not shrink away from their responsibility as parents ...even of adult children ...and that in fact, when they do have the microphone, the spotlight, the stage ...we do benefit. They do not shrink away from their place before God ...and they give Him His due. I find a tremendous amount of hope in these two couples who are changing the world around them ...and because of that, my family, my children, myself ...have the promise of a better world, a more rightly ordered world.
This man, along with his wife, has been given charge over Catholic University of America. This past January, this fine gentleman was inaugurated as President. CUA is one of the few Catholic academic institutions that truly strives to remain so, rather than accommodating a demanding, spiraling culture. I have not been asked to give a nod their way. But since my friends return from the ceremony and hearing the reflections from the parents, young adults and teenagers ...a few times, I wanted to learn more ...and also since my twelve year old has announced it is in her top three college picks, I figured I should look a bit closer. I've liked what I've heard and seen. Here is the link to President Garvey's inaugural address. Keep in mind he is an intellectual ...I am not, so I had to read closely, but well worth the effort. Or, just google CUA and navigate around and you will see some wonderful, hopeful things.
http://president.cua.edu/inauguration/GarveyInaugurationAddress.cfm
Keep President Garvey and his wife in your prayers, and our other friends as well. Beauty can be restored one lens at a time. Our ability to observe and know what is truly beautiful can be restored bit, by bit, or in one massive sweep. As parents, our job is to teach, show, witness true beauty for our children ...to lean hard into God in all things. The treachery, deception is out there telling our children otherwise. And that can be tremendously overwhelming, especially when you've already lost one to the lies of the culture. But there is hope ...examples for all of us to follow, learn from ...appreciate and respect. Here are two couples, raising families ...(because even still when our children are grown ...so much is to be done) ...lighting the way, beacons really, in a chaotic world that distorts the beauty Prof. Eselon speaks of. I am blessed, we all are, that they walk this earth.
Tonight I will pray the fifth Sorrowful mystery, The Crucifixion, for all your intentions.
Crucifixion & Death: Luke 23:45-46
And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst. And Jesus crying out with a loud voice, said: Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit. And saying this, he gave up the ghost.
At the Last Supper, when the hour had come to complete His oblation of self, what did Christ say to His Apostles who were gathered around Him? "Greater love than this no man hath, that a man lay down his life for his friends." And this is the love, surpassing all loves, which Jesus shows us; for, as St. Paul says, "It is for us all that He is delivered up." What greater proof of love could He have given us? None.
Hence the Apostle declares without ceasing that "because He loved us, Christ delivered Himself up for us," and "because of the love He bears for me, He gave Himself up for me."
"Delivered," "given"--to what extent? Even to the death on the cross!
What enhances this love immeasurably is the sovereign liberty with which Christ delivered Himself up: "He offered Himself because He willed it." These words tell us how spontaneously Jesus accepted His Passion. This freedom with which Jesus delivered Himself up to death for us is one of the aspects of His sacrifice which touch our human hearts most profoundly.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Beyond these blessings is a culture so full of vulgarity, intemperance, and an inability to promote, appreciate or even recognize the truly beautiful. This thought was pointed out by our pastor this weekend. He cites the writing of Anthony Eselon, a professor at Providence College. Eselon examines how our culture has become so base that it destroys one's ability to recognize true beauty ...truth in life. Look around, turn on the TV, glance at most magazine covers, listen to the lyrics of the most popular music ....does it pronounce or promote true beauty? Does any of it reflect the beauty of God? Elevate talent to give glory and praise? Think long and hard about those questions ...and then consider raising your children in this environment. Where is this all taking us?
Last night a friend shared an observation that reflects where we are all going ...who we, as a culture, are becoming. "Remember" he said, "when we were younger and a funeral procession would pass by. Cars would stop, walkers would stop ...pause, give the courtesy of recognizing a life that had passed. If it was clear the person was a veteran, hands would be placed on the heart." Yes, I remember. Now, no one pays any mind. Cars cut through the procession ...paying no courtesy. It's one simple observation that speaks volumes. What are we caring about these days?
Those of us trying to raise our kids with good, strong fiber, far too often stand alone ...seemingly archaic, unrealistic, overly protective. We limit computer, TV, movies, music ...we pay attention to the tightness of clothing, the shortness of skirts, trying to preserve dignity, a true sense of self, modesty ...and we stand alone.
We expect time together as a family, regular prayer, belief in our obligations to God, the seriousness of our responsibility to Him ...and we stand alone. We explain to our children that while the world tells them to try out multiple partners for compatibility, and the younger you start the better ...that physical intimacy is for marriage, designed beautifully to participate in creation ...and we stand alone.
And while I have been extraordinarily blessed with friendships that share these ideals ...our every days are not together. We are separate, standing alone, imperfectly seeking, striving to serve God and give Him what is rightly, justly His. Our voices are far too often ridiculed, looked on as peculiar, old fashioned. But the Truth does not change over time ...it transcends time. Some truth changes, like "it is high tide right now." Certainly it will not be high tide in six hours ...so that kind of truth changes. But God's truth never, ever does ...regardless of the changing culture, fashion, desires. Just because we grow tired of certain truths doesn't mean they cease to exist, or even that we cease to be bound to them.
Once we give way, and take upon ourselves to 'change' the truth, we damage our ability to recognize it. Finally, we will cease to recognize true beauty ...because truth no longer exists in our minds, in our worlds. This is what Eselon describes ...we become Godless ...a perversion of beauty takes root ...and anything can then be called beautiful ...even a dress made of meat!
But alas, there is hope ...and that is where we can find God ...in this hope. When I watch my girls among friends from similar families ...the interaction is radically different ...it is pure, laughter flows freely, encouragement abounds, phones get put away, they sing, they dance ...they live. No one worries about the brand of shoes, if there hair looks okay ...if they "fit in." Why, here in this safe haven ...even parents are acceptable. The word "no" isn't a form of assault against a child's rights. Limits and boundaries may not be liked, but they are accepted, not argued over. So very different than relationships that are more focused on the culture, where an intense pressure to be accepted presides.
In these tiny glens of friendship Christ reigns ...His name doesn't even need mentioning ...because it is naturally ordered to Him. It is right. Oh, how I wish we could all live together without the distractions and lies of this world. Don't get me wrong, there is so much beauty around us, so many wonderful people around us and far beyond. But let's be honest ....can anyone defend the current TV programming ...cable or network?
For sure there is hope in these friendships ...and like the spider's web, a delicate, fragile, but certain weave makes it way far beyond us. Our connections, connect to others ...and so forth, creating a frame for goodness and beauty to one day take hold again in this lopsided world.
Several years ago, my husband and I joined in a wedding celebration ...the daughter of our good friends. We were so thrilled to be part of an event that unfolded over many months, filled with lots of consideration, prayer ...and hope. It was in the process of this wedding taking place that I stood in awe and with such gratitude as I saw the love of two families intertwine as they each presented their child to be married. They married younger than most these days ...but with wisdom and assurance, often lost on couples much older than them.
Today we spent the day with this couple and their three beautiful children ...and soon to be baby number four.
I am twenty years older ...and tired ...but they give me such hope for the future, and just by being themselves they offer promise to my kids. And while they themselves are such an incredible example and witness ...they arrived where they are today because of four very strong, principled people ...their parents. Two of them are dear friends of ours ...and I dare say that without these two people, along with their crew of eleven amazing children (yes, that's right ...eleven ...and yes, that's right too ...amazing) my own family may not have made it this far since losing our precious Phoebe. If every parent could spend ten minutes with this couple, I believe we could change the world ...and put it on course toward the ideals, principles and virtues that make a culture good and right. They do not have the microphone, the spotlight, the stage ...but, if they did, we would all benefit.
The other set of parents, I've met a few times. And though I do not claim to know them in any strong way, I know enough to say they do not shrink away from their responsibility as parents ...even of adult children ...and that in fact, when they do have the microphone, the spotlight, the stage ...we do benefit. They do not shrink away from their place before God ...and they give Him His due. I find a tremendous amount of hope in these two couples who are changing the world around them ...and because of that, my family, my children, myself ...have the promise of a better world, a more rightly ordered world.
This man, along with his wife, has been given charge over Catholic University of America. This past January, this fine gentleman was inaugurated as President. CUA is one of the few Catholic academic institutions that truly strives to remain so, rather than accommodating a demanding, spiraling culture. I have not been asked to give a nod their way. But since my friends return from the ceremony and hearing the reflections from the parents, young adults and teenagers ...a few times, I wanted to learn more ...and also since my twelve year old has announced it is in her top three college picks, I figured I should look a bit closer. I've liked what I've heard and seen. Here is the link to President Garvey's inaugural address. Keep in mind he is an intellectual ...I am not, so I had to read closely, but well worth the effort. Or, just google CUA and navigate around and you will see some wonderful, hopeful things.
http://president.cua.edu/inauguration/GarveyInaugurationAddress.cfm
Keep President Garvey and his wife in your prayers, and our other friends as well. Beauty can be restored one lens at a time. Our ability to observe and know what is truly beautiful can be restored bit, by bit, or in one massive sweep. As parents, our job is to teach, show, witness true beauty for our children ...to lean hard into God in all things. The treachery, deception is out there telling our children otherwise. And that can be tremendously overwhelming, especially when you've already lost one to the lies of the culture. But there is hope ...examples for all of us to follow, learn from ...appreciate and respect. Here are two couples, raising families ...(because even still when our children are grown ...so much is to be done) ...lighting the way, beacons really, in a chaotic world that distorts the beauty Prof. Eselon speaks of. I am blessed, we all are, that they walk this earth.
Tonight I will pray the fifth Sorrowful mystery, The Crucifixion, for all your intentions.
Crucifixion & Death: Luke 23:45-46
And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst. And Jesus crying out with a loud voice, said: Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit. And saying this, he gave up the ghost.
At the Last Supper, when the hour had come to complete His oblation of self, what did Christ say to His Apostles who were gathered around Him? "Greater love than this no man hath, that a man lay down his life for his friends." And this is the love, surpassing all loves, which Jesus shows us; for, as St. Paul says, "It is for us all that He is delivered up." What greater proof of love could He have given us? None.
Hence the Apostle declares without ceasing that "because He loved us, Christ delivered Himself up for us," and "because of the love He bears for me, He gave Himself up for me."
"Delivered," "given"--to what extent? Even to the death on the cross!
What enhances this love immeasurably is the sovereign liberty with which Christ delivered Himself up: "He offered Himself because He willed it." These words tell us how spontaneously Jesus accepted His Passion. This freedom with which Jesus delivered Himself up to death for us is one of the aspects of His sacrifice which touch our human hearts most profoundly.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Perspective
I've been thinking a lot lately about this life I've been given. Overall, I've been pretty happy about it ... there's plenty to be grateful for, lots of good things, good kids, good husband ...house, car ...GOD ...the most critical element, really. Perspective is important ...keeping life in focus maintains balance, nurtures wholeness ...growth. There are days when I find that hard, some days ...terribly hard, if not impossible. I've lost Phoebe ...but I still have her. She'll never leave me, I know this now. Yet, she did choose to leave me, and I don't mean in a 'considered' way ...impulsively she left. What if it were reversed? What if I left her, left any of my kids ...what would happen to them? How would they fare? You know I trust God, His plan ...so I know they would be alright. But it would be pretty hard for them in many ways. I don't want to leave them. I'm grateful I don't have anything that prompts me to worry about that. But, sadly, some moms do worry have that worry ... they hang on to every vital moment, every pulsing activity they have with their kids ...because their time may run out ...not by choice. So as I read this today, it helped me with my own perspective ...helped me be glad for what I had ...and what I didn't.
http://www.incourage.me/2011/02/how-to-mend-all-your-broken-places.html
Pray for this mother ...this incredibly courageous and outrageously grateful woman. I don't know anyone who would choose such a walk, but from the little glimpse we get here ...she walks with grace and gratitude. What a blessing her example is to me ...a witness of pure love ...
I'll offer my own struggle for her this weekend, as she makes her way not knowing the ending, but still loving, still striving and fighting to live her motherhood for her children. And I will pray hard for her ...and I so hope you will too.
Tonight I will offer the fourth Sorrowful mystery, the Carrying of the Cross, for all of your intentions.
Carrying the Cross: John 19:12-18
And from henceforth Pilate sought to release him. But the Jews cried out, saying: If thou release this man, thou art not Caesar's friend. For whosoever maketh himself a king, speaketh against Caesar. Now when Pilate had heard these words, he brought Jesus forth, and sat down in the judgment seat, in the place that is called Lithostrotos, and in Hebrew Gabbatha. And it was the parasceve of the pasch, about the sixth hour, and he saith to the Jews: Behold your king. But they cried out: Away with him; away with him; crucify him. Pilate saith to them: Shall I crucify your king? The chief priests answered: We have no king but Caesar. Then therefore he delivered him to them to be crucified. And they took Jesus, and led him forth. And bearing his own cross, he went forth to that place which is called Calvary, but in Hebrew Golgotha. Where they crucified him, and with him two others, one on each side, and Jesus in the midst.
Let us meditate upon Jesus Christ on the way to Calvary laden with His cross. He falls under the weight of this burden. To expiate sin, He wills to experience in His own flesh the oppression of sin. Fearing that Jesus will not reach the place of crucifixion alive, the Jews force Simon of Cyrene to help Christ to carry His cross, and Jesus accepts this assistance.
In this Simon represents all of us. As members of the Mystical Body of Christ, we should all help Jesus to carry His Cross. This is the one sure sign that we belong to Christ--if we carry our cross with Him.
But while Jesus carried His cross, He merited for us the strength to bear our trials with generosity. He has placed in His cross a sweetness which makes ours bearable, for when we carry our cross it is really His that we receive. For Christ unites with His own the sufferings, sorrows, pains and burdens which we accept with love from His hand, and by this union He gives them an inestimable value, and they become a source of great merit for us.
It is above all His love for His Father which impels Christ to accept the sufferings of His Passion, but it is also the love which He bears us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
http://www.incourage.me/2011/02/how-to-mend-all-your-broken-places.html
Pray for this mother ...this incredibly courageous and outrageously grateful woman. I don't know anyone who would choose such a walk, but from the little glimpse we get here ...she walks with grace and gratitude. What a blessing her example is to me ...a witness of pure love ...
I'll offer my own struggle for her this weekend, as she makes her way not knowing the ending, but still loving, still striving and fighting to live her motherhood for her children. And I will pray hard for her ...and I so hope you will too.
Tonight I will offer the fourth Sorrowful mystery, the Carrying of the Cross, for all of your intentions.
Carrying the Cross: John 19:12-18
And from henceforth Pilate sought to release him. But the Jews cried out, saying: If thou release this man, thou art not Caesar's friend. For whosoever maketh himself a king, speaketh against Caesar. Now when Pilate had heard these words, he brought Jesus forth, and sat down in the judgment seat, in the place that is called Lithostrotos, and in Hebrew Gabbatha. And it was the parasceve of the pasch, about the sixth hour, and he saith to the Jews: Behold your king. But they cried out: Away with him; away with him; crucify him. Pilate saith to them: Shall I crucify your king? The chief priests answered: We have no king but Caesar. Then therefore he delivered him to them to be crucified. And they took Jesus, and led him forth. And bearing his own cross, he went forth to that place which is called Calvary, but in Hebrew Golgotha. Where they crucified him, and with him two others, one on each side, and Jesus in the midst.
Let us meditate upon Jesus Christ on the way to Calvary laden with His cross. He falls under the weight of this burden. To expiate sin, He wills to experience in His own flesh the oppression of sin. Fearing that Jesus will not reach the place of crucifixion alive, the Jews force Simon of Cyrene to help Christ to carry His cross, and Jesus accepts this assistance.
In this Simon represents all of us. As members of the Mystical Body of Christ, we should all help Jesus to carry His Cross. This is the one sure sign that we belong to Christ--if we carry our cross with Him.
But while Jesus carried His cross, He merited for us the strength to bear our trials with generosity. He has placed in His cross a sweetness which makes ours bearable, for when we carry our cross it is really His that we receive. For Christ unites with His own the sufferings, sorrows, pains and burdens which we accept with love from His hand, and by this union He gives them an inestimable value, and they become a source of great merit for us.
It is above all His love for His Father which impels Christ to accept the sufferings of His Passion, but it is also the love which He bears us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
Thursday, February 17, 2011
St. Joseph Novena
The Feast of St. Joseph is March 19th. Don't miss this chance to ask for his intercession. He is a quiet saint, who will often answer your petition in an unexpected, even undesired way ...but in time, you see the glorious wisdom ...the perfection of his answer. Of course, all things answered through him are the answers that are from God. St. Joseph simply, and humbly begs on our behalf in a way we cannot ourselves ...because we aren't saints...yet. On the left of this blog is a link to the Holy Cloak of St. Joseph Novena. It is thirty days, rigorous, demanding ... but incredibly worthwhile. It was passed on to me by a friend ...and if you could see just a glimpse of the holiness of this woman, in an instant you would be on your knees praying this novena. Begin today to say the thirty days so it ends on St. Joseph's feast day ...which will bring extra graces.
I pray for many things, but I usually target three very specific intentions. As you read these words you will grow in desire to serve God in the best way ...to be as holy, pure as you possibly can. It will transform you ...while you pray for other things. Phoebe was long ago entrusted to the security and protection of St. Joseph's Holy Cloak. If his cloak was worthy of the child Jesus, surely I want my children to have a place there too. I believe Phoebe now knows the intricate weave of this cloak and the protection it gave her while she was here with us ...and now she enjoys the grace of its beauty.
As I pray this novena ...I will surely include you and your intentions along with my own.
St. Joseph protect us and pray for us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
I pray for many things, but I usually target three very specific intentions. As you read these words you will grow in desire to serve God in the best way ...to be as holy, pure as you possibly can. It will transform you ...while you pray for other things. Phoebe was long ago entrusted to the security and protection of St. Joseph's Holy Cloak. If his cloak was worthy of the child Jesus, surely I want my children to have a place there too. I believe Phoebe now knows the intricate weave of this cloak and the protection it gave her while she was here with us ...and now she enjoys the grace of its beauty.
As I pray this novena ...I will surely include you and your intentions along with my own.
St. Joseph protect us and pray for us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
For Today
I don't pretend to understand God's ways ...but ...I do trust His ways. There is a mystery here, in this loss of my daughter. From time to time, a clue, a revelation unfolds, reveals itself, leaving a permanent impression, but sometimes just one that only lasts seconds. I piece together the bits and pieces that are weaving this tapestry of understanding, acceptance ...trust. Trusting is not always easy, it doesn't just happen ...it's a choice, a very deliberate choice. I entrusted my children to the Blessed Mother for years, knowing her favor with God, with her Son. On August 15th, the Feast of the Assumption, this past year, I knelt with my dear friend and finalized a consecration that gave completely my trust and acceptance of God's Will, no matter the cost. Had I known the price, I probably would not have completed that ...but I did. Even now, I am glad for it. Not that I am glad to have lost the physical presence of my daughter, but I believe through that consecration I have been given more comfort than many ...because I chose to trust God with my children ...with my life. I trust God loves me more than anyone here ever could. I even trust that God loves Phoebe far more deeply, fully than I ever could ...no matter how much I think I do ...it pales so in comparison to God's exquisite love for her. While I strive to nurture and care for the souls of my children, raise them to be pleasing to God, He understands their essence, their moment of perfection ...their moment to die to this world. God allowed Phoebe to die, allowed her to exercise her own free will in a moment of confusion, despair ...and in that moment saved her and perfected her. Phoebe has a job to do, work for God, for her Creator ...and the purpose of that work is far greater than anything she could accomplish on earth. I believe that, trust that.
So I'm caught between the precious assurance of my daughters safety, her freedom, peace ...union with eternity and the sorrow of not being able to touch her, fold her clothes, listen to her sing. Yet odd things happen. It takes nothing for me to feel her skin under my fingertips ...her cheeks, the texture of her skin remains. All around me are her things, meshed with her sisters, her clothes still tumble in my dryer, make their way to my hands. Her voice lulls me ...still so present. Her song, her laugh ...her discontent, complaining are not so far off. How is it these things hold firm their place, stay part of me? God's gift. I will never abandon you, he tells me, assures me.
I'm jealous too ...why can't I be there? why do I have to wait? Don't get me wrong ... my life is worth living, my other kids are worth my every day and more. But surely, this is a tremendous mystery to wrap one's brain around. I can't make sense of it ...because my brain is limited ...stifled. So is my heart ...it has not reached its full capacity to give or receive love. How do I get there? One moment at a time, one Mass at a time, one rosary bead at a time. It will take my whole life, I know.
Every moment is a chance to love Christ as much as I can, to serve Him in every way. This is life, real life, to carry the burden of a cross far heavier than I thought capable of carrying. He carried His cross for me, drained himself for me. Isn't it an honor to walk this path, so minimal when next to His. Only one, forced into helping Him carry the cross, assisted Him. All around me, I am buoyed by love, support, encouragement. People have gathered round me, while most fled from Him. Yes, despite the horror of this struggle, He could have allowed it to be far worse. Let me count my blessings and see His kindness to me.
These days I am feeling the exhaustion, the physical drain of grief ...like I am bleeding tiredness right out of my body. Is this an emptying, preparing for a later filling ...a renewal, a restoration. I don't know. It's an odd kind of rest. Part of His healing mystery perhaps. He is filling me with her, my Phoebe, so I might not beg so hard, I think. It is time to turn, turn toward the living. Phoebe is well ...she is well. Others need tending. It is an exhausted resignation today ...with a twinkling of hope. Tomorrow might be different, but for today, it seems okay.
Tonight I will pray the third Sorrowful mystery, the Scourging at the Pillar, for your intentions.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
So I'm caught between the precious assurance of my daughters safety, her freedom, peace ...union with eternity and the sorrow of not being able to touch her, fold her clothes, listen to her sing. Yet odd things happen. It takes nothing for me to feel her skin under my fingertips ...her cheeks, the texture of her skin remains. All around me are her things, meshed with her sisters, her clothes still tumble in my dryer, make their way to my hands. Her voice lulls me ...still so present. Her song, her laugh ...her discontent, complaining are not so far off. How is it these things hold firm their place, stay part of me? God's gift. I will never abandon you, he tells me, assures me.
I'm jealous too ...why can't I be there? why do I have to wait? Don't get me wrong ... my life is worth living, my other kids are worth my every day and more. But surely, this is a tremendous mystery to wrap one's brain around. I can't make sense of it ...because my brain is limited ...stifled. So is my heart ...it has not reached its full capacity to give or receive love. How do I get there? One moment at a time, one Mass at a time, one rosary bead at a time. It will take my whole life, I know.
Every moment is a chance to love Christ as much as I can, to serve Him in every way. This is life, real life, to carry the burden of a cross far heavier than I thought capable of carrying. He carried His cross for me, drained himself for me. Isn't it an honor to walk this path, so minimal when next to His. Only one, forced into helping Him carry the cross, assisted Him. All around me, I am buoyed by love, support, encouragement. People have gathered round me, while most fled from Him. Yes, despite the horror of this struggle, He could have allowed it to be far worse. Let me count my blessings and see His kindness to me.
These days I am feeling the exhaustion, the physical drain of grief ...like I am bleeding tiredness right out of my body. Is this an emptying, preparing for a later filling ...a renewal, a restoration. I don't know. It's an odd kind of rest. Part of His healing mystery perhaps. He is filling me with her, my Phoebe, so I might not beg so hard, I think. It is time to turn, turn toward the living. Phoebe is well ...she is well. Others need tending. It is an exhausted resignation today ...with a twinkling of hope. Tomorrow might be different, but for today, it seems okay.
Tonight I will pray the third Sorrowful mystery, the Scourging at the Pillar, for your intentions.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Monday, February 14, 2011
One Pan Chocolate Cake
Happy Valentines Day!
Hope somebody showed you how much they love you ...appreciate all you do.
I've been waiting a few days now for some quiet time to write ...it hasn't come. Late nights, early mornings, a houseful of kids spanning many years ...different needs at different times. Translation = nonstop. I think part of it is cabin fever.
There really hasn't been a moment to stop and consider what's going on inside of me. Maybe that's not so important right now. What I have been doing, with varying degrees of success, is trying to not complain, to serve joyfully, and recognize all I do as caring for God's creations He has entrusted me with. I'm finding that hard because I want recognition, a pat on the back ...a simple "thank you." Often, it's hard not to take things personally ...I really struggle with that. So pray for me, would you? Where I want to be is a place where simply being able to serve is enough ...the simple gift of the opportunity to serve others would leave me filled with love, warmth ...an awareness of His generosity. I want to be in a place where the thought of being appreciated, recognized is remote, so very far away. If I can get to that place then I think my life will be a humble one, truly serving God ...and that's really all I want to do.
But I get in the way ...too many times.
So Valentine's Day is here. I've always done something little, but special for the kids. Little goody bags, maybe a small gift, cards ...all different things ...but something. This year is no different except there is no gift for Phoebe ...just six, not seven little bags of treats. Tugs a bit at my heart, but not too terrible today. Thinking back on years past I remember things that soften my heart still ...little unexpected treasures offered. I remember my mother giving us new pajamas on Valentine's Day. Maybe not every year, but at times ...and what a nice gift about now ...growing tired of what you've worn for months, a new nightie brightens things. Later, I remember the first time my doorbell rang. Flowers delivered to me ....hmmm, I thought ...not my husbands style. I found myself completely caught off guard to read the card that signed off "Love, Dad." For a few years, flowers would be delivered on this day from my father ...not like him at all, either. Sometimes those things mean more when they are given by someone you never thought would. We're always changing, growing ...becoming. But it is good to look back and remember, maybe even repeat some of the things that made us feel special, loved in a previous time.
One of my girls wanted to make a cake for today. "What kind?" she asked. Without thinking I respond "how bout the one pan chocolate cake?" "Oh yeah, that's a good one." The one pan chocolate cake ...a staple of my mothers. I couldn't count the number of times she would bake that cake for us. Funny how a cake can bridge the distance between yesterday and today ...between the living and the dead. Lucy measures and pours ...walks away, so I stir. There I am with two others ..."don't use the mixer", my mother says "its meant to be hand stirred." Phoebe's over my shoulder "oh your making the one pan ...good." The three of us together ...its as if they are there. No sadness runs through me ...just a sense, an assurance they are close by, approving ...moving about my kitchen. My mother looks at me, knows how tired I am ...emotionally, physically ...exhausted, wondering how this pace won't drag me down. She thought the same thing ...struggles of her own in a house filled with teenagers ...straddling the ages, serving, loving ...serving, striving ...serving. Phoebe pats my back, leans over me, assures me this is a good one to make ...let's them see I think of them. "They don't see it now mawma ...but later they will." A peck on the cheek and she is gone. I am here alone ...busyness all around me, the pace unrelenting. I am grateful for the recipe of the one pan cake ...in such a small way, my mother paved the way for me this evening ...and maybe I am too for one of my girls many years down the road.
I'm struck by how our service to our children lives long after the moment ... Isn't that the timelessness of God? Isn't that His generosity in how He uses us? For now that is enough ...to just rest in the timelessness of God ...and how he makes us a part of that. The timelessness that brings the past and the present, the living and the dead ...all to the same place in the same moment ...for just a fleeting moment.
Tonight I will pray the following mystery for all of your intentions.
Scourging at the Pillar: Matthew 27:25-26
And the whole people answering, said: His blood be upon us and our children. Then he released to them Barabbas, and having scourged Jesus, delivered him unto them to be crucified
Christ substituted Himself voluntarily for us as a sacrificial victim without blemish in order to pay our debt, and, by the expiation and the satisfaction which He made for us, to restore the Divine life to us. This was the mission which Christ came to fulfill, the course which He had to run. "God has placed upon Him"--a man like unto ourselves, of the race of Adam, but entirely just and innocent and without sin--"the iniquity of us all."
Since Christ has become, so to speak, a sharer in our nature and taken upon Himself the debt of our sin, He has merited for us a share in His justice and holiness. In the forceful words of St. Paul, God, "by sending His Son in the likeness of sinful flesh as a sin-offering, has condemned sin in the flesh." And with an impact still more stunning, the Apostle writes: "For our sakes He (God) made Him (Christ) to be sin who knew nothing of sin." How startling this expression is: "made Him to be sin"! The Apostle does not say "sinner," but--what is still more striking--"sin"!
Let us never forget that "we have been redeemed at great price by the precious blood of Christ as of a lamb without blemish and without spot."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Hope somebody showed you how much they love you ...appreciate all you do.
I've been waiting a few days now for some quiet time to write ...it hasn't come. Late nights, early mornings, a houseful of kids spanning many years ...different needs at different times. Translation = nonstop. I think part of it is cabin fever.
There really hasn't been a moment to stop and consider what's going on inside of me. Maybe that's not so important right now. What I have been doing, with varying degrees of success, is trying to not complain, to serve joyfully, and recognize all I do as caring for God's creations He has entrusted me with. I'm finding that hard because I want recognition, a pat on the back ...a simple "thank you." Often, it's hard not to take things personally ...I really struggle with that. So pray for me, would you? Where I want to be is a place where simply being able to serve is enough ...the simple gift of the opportunity to serve others would leave me filled with love, warmth ...an awareness of His generosity. I want to be in a place where the thought of being appreciated, recognized is remote, so very far away. If I can get to that place then I think my life will be a humble one, truly serving God ...and that's really all I want to do.
But I get in the way ...too many times.
So Valentine's Day is here. I've always done something little, but special for the kids. Little goody bags, maybe a small gift, cards ...all different things ...but something. This year is no different except there is no gift for Phoebe ...just six, not seven little bags of treats. Tugs a bit at my heart, but not too terrible today. Thinking back on years past I remember things that soften my heart still ...little unexpected treasures offered. I remember my mother giving us new pajamas on Valentine's Day. Maybe not every year, but at times ...and what a nice gift about now ...growing tired of what you've worn for months, a new nightie brightens things. Later, I remember the first time my doorbell rang. Flowers delivered to me ....hmmm, I thought ...not my husbands style. I found myself completely caught off guard to read the card that signed off "Love, Dad." For a few years, flowers would be delivered on this day from my father ...not like him at all, either. Sometimes those things mean more when they are given by someone you never thought would. We're always changing, growing ...becoming. But it is good to look back and remember, maybe even repeat some of the things that made us feel special, loved in a previous time.
One of my girls wanted to make a cake for today. "What kind?" she asked. Without thinking I respond "how bout the one pan chocolate cake?" "Oh yeah, that's a good one." The one pan chocolate cake ...a staple of my mothers. I couldn't count the number of times she would bake that cake for us. Funny how a cake can bridge the distance between yesterday and today ...between the living and the dead. Lucy measures and pours ...walks away, so I stir. There I am with two others ..."don't use the mixer", my mother says "its meant to be hand stirred." Phoebe's over my shoulder "oh your making the one pan ...good." The three of us together ...its as if they are there. No sadness runs through me ...just a sense, an assurance they are close by, approving ...moving about my kitchen. My mother looks at me, knows how tired I am ...emotionally, physically ...exhausted, wondering how this pace won't drag me down. She thought the same thing ...struggles of her own in a house filled with teenagers ...straddling the ages, serving, loving ...serving, striving ...serving. Phoebe pats my back, leans over me, assures me this is a good one to make ...let's them see I think of them. "They don't see it now mawma ...but later they will." A peck on the cheek and she is gone. I am here alone ...busyness all around me, the pace unrelenting. I am grateful for the recipe of the one pan cake ...in such a small way, my mother paved the way for me this evening ...and maybe I am too for one of my girls many years down the road.
I'm struck by how our service to our children lives long after the moment ... Isn't that the timelessness of God? Isn't that His generosity in how He uses us? For now that is enough ...to just rest in the timelessness of God ...and how he makes us a part of that. The timelessness that brings the past and the present, the living and the dead ...all to the same place in the same moment ...for just a fleeting moment.
Tonight I will pray the following mystery for all of your intentions.
Scourging at the Pillar: Matthew 27:25-26
And the whole people answering, said: His blood be upon us and our children. Then he released to them Barabbas, and having scourged Jesus, delivered him unto them to be crucified
Christ substituted Himself voluntarily for us as a sacrificial victim without blemish in order to pay our debt, and, by the expiation and the satisfaction which He made for us, to restore the Divine life to us. This was the mission which Christ came to fulfill, the course which He had to run. "God has placed upon Him"--a man like unto ourselves, of the race of Adam, but entirely just and innocent and without sin--"the iniquity of us all."
Since Christ has become, so to speak, a sharer in our nature and taken upon Himself the debt of our sin, He has merited for us a share in His justice and holiness. In the forceful words of St. Paul, God, "by sending His Son in the likeness of sinful flesh as a sin-offering, has condemned sin in the flesh." And with an impact still more stunning, the Apostle writes: "For our sakes He (God) made Him (Christ) to be sin who knew nothing of sin." How startling this expression is: "made Him to be sin"! The Apostle does not say "sinner," but--what is still more striking--"sin"!
Let us never forget that "we have been redeemed at great price by the precious blood of Christ as of a lamb without blemish and without spot."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Guilt
Most of what I think about now are the things I did wrong ...the things I wish I had done something different, said something better. Moments of impatience, frustration play before me as I respond, react with less love and care, less thought. I hear my own voice and see my gestures, relive the moments when I snapped at Phoebe. I cannot get to the moments when perhaps I responded with love, kindness, patience ....they don't come to me for some reason. Could it be that I was never a good mother to Phoebe? Could it be that I abandoned her, dismissed ...forgot her? I can't find the moments that put those questions to rest. They haunt me.
I read what to expect as I march through the days, weeks of this new life ....guilt is a place we stay for a while. It cannot be intellectualized away ...dismissed. It must be. ...and there are some things of my own doing that I must accept ...admit. I lost some moments that I could have won. I know that is true for all of us ....part of the human condition. We live in a fallen world, and we are prone to our own vices. I am not expecting I should have been perfect ...I'm just regretting the times I could have been better, could have given more and didn't. Maybe the outcome never could have been different, but what if ....?
Guilt is a funny thing. At times it is neurotic, senseless ...but it has it's place in our souls, our society. Too often we are given the option, encouragement even, to assume no guilt. But that is wrong. We fall, we fail. I fell and I failed Phoebe. I let my daughter down, misread her too often. I'm not even talking about her death ....more about her life. There is only one place to go with this ...towards God. Only He knows.
I did the best I could ...I have always tried to. My imperfections did not kill my daughter.
But her death certainly prompts me look at myself with precision, forces me to let go of some of what I believed important, cling tighter to others. I wish I could have been the perfect mother ...I wish I could have read her mind ....I wish, I wish, I wish.
People rush in, assuring me I am a good mother, discouraging negative thoughts about my way, my personality. It is all love and assurance coming towards me, for me, out of love...and I need it. But the intimacy between a mother and child ...a mother and oldest daughter is so deeply personal, so precious ...that to live with no guilt, no doubt ...would be offensive, wrong. To live that guilt for as long as needed keeps that intimacy alive ...keeps the relationship alive and growing ....as it still should. It is the greatest examination of conscience one could have ....the most precise. I am glad for that ....for now
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
I read what to expect as I march through the days, weeks of this new life ....guilt is a place we stay for a while. It cannot be intellectualized away ...dismissed. It must be. ...and there are some things of my own doing that I must accept ...admit. I lost some moments that I could have won. I know that is true for all of us ....part of the human condition. We live in a fallen world, and we are prone to our own vices. I am not expecting I should have been perfect ...I'm just regretting the times I could have been better, could have given more and didn't. Maybe the outcome never could have been different, but what if ....?
Guilt is a funny thing. At times it is neurotic, senseless ...but it has it's place in our souls, our society. Too often we are given the option, encouragement even, to assume no guilt. But that is wrong. We fall, we fail. I fell and I failed Phoebe. I let my daughter down, misread her too often. I'm not even talking about her death ....more about her life. There is only one place to go with this ...towards God. Only He knows.
I did the best I could ...I have always tried to. My imperfections did not kill my daughter.
But her death certainly prompts me look at myself with precision, forces me to let go of some of what I believed important, cling tighter to others. I wish I could have been the perfect mother ...I wish I could have read her mind ....I wish, I wish, I wish.
People rush in, assuring me I am a good mother, discouraging negative thoughts about my way, my personality. It is all love and assurance coming towards me, for me, out of love...and I need it. But the intimacy between a mother and child ...a mother and oldest daughter is so deeply personal, so precious ...that to live with no guilt, no doubt ...would be offensive, wrong. To live that guilt for as long as needed keeps that intimacy alive ...keeps the relationship alive and growing ....as it still should. It is the greatest examination of conscience one could have ....the most precise. I am glad for that ....for now
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Weight
Dark days come and go. There is no set rhythm, as I've said before. I do think its tied to dates, anniversary dates. Yesterday marked four months since Phoebe died. Certainly the days leading to the ninth of every month will at least make me pause ...make my chest heave with sorrow. When that pain rushes in and overwhelms, the blinders go up, I can't see any way through. It feels as if life will always be horrifically painful. It is a pain like no other ....searing, seething, moving through your veins, cells ...every part of a person. As much as this makes me question God, I also believe He allows the pain to come in waves. The magnitude of the painful loss in its entirety would kill me ...I am sure of that. There is simply no way a human could sustain the weight of all this pain ..at once.
Four months. Four months without her here. Don't even try to imagine what that would be like. Final. It is all so very final ...in this life anyway. And there are new patterns that emerge, begin to take shape. Our days move on, they are busy, filled with activity, laughter, fighting, games, cooking, singing ...part of family life. Still, someone is missing. Phoebe brought an energy, an excitement and vitality to the day. So much of who we were was determined and led by her, and her ways. Now we are left to claim our own. She would want us to do that ...make our own stake, homesteaders in our own family.
"C'mon guys," I can hear her say "It's not all up to me ..get your own lives, what are you gonna do when I'm gone?" We owe that to her, tilling new soil, planting new ways ...beginning. I just hope she knew how much a part of this family she was ...is.
But the weight of it all pulls us down, the remembering, the stuckness, laboring over the why, why, why. The questions, the guilt, the vulnerability leave us uncertain which direction we're called to . How do we procede? And where are we going?
Faith and trust, lead us onward. I just listen to the words of songs that assure me He is there. God knows our pain, our sorrow, our uncertainty. So I just try to hand it all over to Him, let Him do the work that needs to be done on this sorry soul. I just keep praying, trusting, reaching for Him. So often He seems absent, unreachable ...but I look back, and am reminded of intense moments of God's presence, His assurance, His promise ...for me, this mother missing her girl.
I know He will place the weight on me again ...as He forms me for eternity. I just hope I am listening to Him and following Him as He wants me to. It reminds me of a story I've always loved.
There was a man who did not know what to do with His life. "God" he asks "What am I to do with my life? I want to follow you, do your will, tell me what to do." God shows the man a huge boulder. "Move this!" The man questions "You want me to move this boulder?" "Move this!" God repeats. The man trusting, but not knowing, begins to push against the boulder. For years he toils and struggles, trusting God, certain that his efforts will someday accomplish what God has commanded. Finally, he is weary, cannot stand it any longer. "God, I cannot do this anymore. I have toiled for years, pushed, pulled, shoved again and again. This boulder has not moved one bit. Why would you command me to do something I couldn't possibly accomplish. I only wanted to do Your will. But, I could not, can not." Weeping, he sits down. "Look" God says gently "Look ...at your arms, your legs, your chest. Do you not see the strength of your body? How fine tuned you are! The details of each muscle in your arms show their perfection and power. Your legs, every inch, solid, steady, strong." The man is confused. "But, I didn't move the boulder, and that was Your will ...and I couldn't do it." "No, my will was not that you would move the boulder, but that You would follow my commands so I could form you in the best way. My will was that you would persevere, that you would grow strong and capable. You have followed My will ...and now you are formed for Me." The man was stunned. He had only thought of the boulder ...never thinking that it was him that God wanted to change ..to move.
How often I think I understand His will, and yet have absolutely no idea what it really is? I have no idea what He wants from me, from my family now. But I am certain, that He allowed us to lose Phoebe so that we may be formed more perfectly for Him ...for all time. I am also certain that Phoebe has a role in this now, that she sees, she believes and she knows that we are being formed. Her terrible, hurtful decision to die by suicide will never be made right. It isn't supposed to be. But her family can be made right if we continue to trust that God is using this horror, this nightmare to bring all of us closer to Him ...and by doing that, accepting that ...we come closer to Phoebe.
I think back to my journey to Bethlehem. It was a hard, but rewarding effort. God blessed me beyond anything I could have imagined. That was a gift that lives on in my heart. And I know Phoebe lives with the Nativity near ...so real. I also know, as Lent approaches, I'll ready myself for the steps towards Calvary. No doubt, that too will be a very difficult journey. Yet, I knew I needed to go to Bethlehem, kneel at the manger, leave my beloved Phoebe there with the Christ Child ...so I could later take my place at the foot of the cross, beneath my Savior. This following is hard, it takes so much out of me, and I would rather stay put. I know it is what He wants ...because it is best for me. I pray I never lose sight of Him.
Tonight I will pray the first Sorrowful Mystery, the Agony in the Garden, for all of your intentions.
Agony in the Garden: Matthew 26:36-39
Then Jesus came with them into a country place which is called Gethsemani; and he said to his disciples: Sit you here, till I go yonder and pray. And taking with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he began to grow sorrowful and to be sad. Then he saith to them: My soul is sorrowful even unto death: stay you here, and watch with me. And going a little further, he fell upon his face, praying, and saying: My Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me. Nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.
It is for the love of His Father above all else that Jesus willed to undergo His Passion.
Behold Jesus Christ in His agony. For three long hours weariness, grief, fear and anguish sweep in upon His soul like a torrent; the pressure of this interior agony is so immense that blood bursts forth from His sacred veins. What an abyss of suffering is reached in this agony! And what does Jesus say to His Father? "Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from Me." Can it be that Jesus no longer accepts the Will of His Father? Oh! certainly He does. But this prayer is the cry of the sensitive emotions of poor human nature, crushed by ignominy and suffering. Now is Jesus truly a "Man of Sorrows." Our Savior feels the terrible weight of His agony bearing down upon His shoulders. He wants us to realize this; that is why He utters such a prayer.
But listen to what He immediately adds: "Nevertheless, Father, not My will but Thine be done." Here is the triumph of love. Because He loves His Father, He places the Will of His Father above everything else and accepts every possible suffering in order to redeem us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Four months. Four months without her here. Don't even try to imagine what that would be like. Final. It is all so very final ...in this life anyway. And there are new patterns that emerge, begin to take shape. Our days move on, they are busy, filled with activity, laughter, fighting, games, cooking, singing ...part of family life. Still, someone is missing. Phoebe brought an energy, an excitement and vitality to the day. So much of who we were was determined and led by her, and her ways. Now we are left to claim our own. She would want us to do that ...make our own stake, homesteaders in our own family.
"C'mon guys," I can hear her say "It's not all up to me ..get your own lives, what are you gonna do when I'm gone?" We owe that to her, tilling new soil, planting new ways ...beginning. I just hope she knew how much a part of this family she was ...is.
But the weight of it all pulls us down, the remembering, the stuckness, laboring over the why, why, why. The questions, the guilt, the vulnerability leave us uncertain which direction we're called to . How do we procede? And where are we going?
Faith and trust, lead us onward. I just listen to the words of songs that assure me He is there. God knows our pain, our sorrow, our uncertainty. So I just try to hand it all over to Him, let Him do the work that needs to be done on this sorry soul. I just keep praying, trusting, reaching for Him. So often He seems absent, unreachable ...but I look back, and am reminded of intense moments of God's presence, His assurance, His promise ...for me, this mother missing her girl.
I know He will place the weight on me again ...as He forms me for eternity. I just hope I am listening to Him and following Him as He wants me to. It reminds me of a story I've always loved.
There was a man who did not know what to do with His life. "God" he asks "What am I to do with my life? I want to follow you, do your will, tell me what to do." God shows the man a huge boulder. "Move this!" The man questions "You want me to move this boulder?" "Move this!" God repeats. The man trusting, but not knowing, begins to push against the boulder. For years he toils and struggles, trusting God, certain that his efforts will someday accomplish what God has commanded. Finally, he is weary, cannot stand it any longer. "God, I cannot do this anymore. I have toiled for years, pushed, pulled, shoved again and again. This boulder has not moved one bit. Why would you command me to do something I couldn't possibly accomplish. I only wanted to do Your will. But, I could not, can not." Weeping, he sits down. "Look" God says gently "Look ...at your arms, your legs, your chest. Do you not see the strength of your body? How fine tuned you are! The details of each muscle in your arms show their perfection and power. Your legs, every inch, solid, steady, strong." The man is confused. "But, I didn't move the boulder, and that was Your will ...and I couldn't do it." "No, my will was not that you would move the boulder, but that You would follow my commands so I could form you in the best way. My will was that you would persevere, that you would grow strong and capable. You have followed My will ...and now you are formed for Me." The man was stunned. He had only thought of the boulder ...never thinking that it was him that God wanted to change ..to move.
How often I think I understand His will, and yet have absolutely no idea what it really is? I have no idea what He wants from me, from my family now. But I am certain, that He allowed us to lose Phoebe so that we may be formed more perfectly for Him ...for all time. I am also certain that Phoebe has a role in this now, that she sees, she believes and she knows that we are being formed. Her terrible, hurtful decision to die by suicide will never be made right. It isn't supposed to be. But her family can be made right if we continue to trust that God is using this horror, this nightmare to bring all of us closer to Him ...and by doing that, accepting that ...we come closer to Phoebe.
I think back to my journey to Bethlehem. It was a hard, but rewarding effort. God blessed me beyond anything I could have imagined. That was a gift that lives on in my heart. And I know Phoebe lives with the Nativity near ...so real. I also know, as Lent approaches, I'll ready myself for the steps towards Calvary. No doubt, that too will be a very difficult journey. Yet, I knew I needed to go to Bethlehem, kneel at the manger, leave my beloved Phoebe there with the Christ Child ...so I could later take my place at the foot of the cross, beneath my Savior. This following is hard, it takes so much out of me, and I would rather stay put. I know it is what He wants ...because it is best for me. I pray I never lose sight of Him.
Tonight I will pray the first Sorrowful Mystery, the Agony in the Garden, for all of your intentions.
Agony in the Garden: Matthew 26:36-39
Then Jesus came with them into a country place which is called Gethsemani; and he said to his disciples: Sit you here, till I go yonder and pray. And taking with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he began to grow sorrowful and to be sad. Then he saith to them: My soul is sorrowful even unto death: stay you here, and watch with me. And going a little further, he fell upon his face, praying, and saying: My Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me. Nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.
It is for the love of His Father above all else that Jesus willed to undergo His Passion.
Behold Jesus Christ in His agony. For three long hours weariness, grief, fear and anguish sweep in upon His soul like a torrent; the pressure of this interior agony is so immense that blood bursts forth from His sacred veins. What an abyss of suffering is reached in this agony! And what does Jesus say to His Father? "Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from Me." Can it be that Jesus no longer accepts the Will of His Father? Oh! certainly He does. But this prayer is the cry of the sensitive emotions of poor human nature, crushed by ignominy and suffering. Now is Jesus truly a "Man of Sorrows." Our Savior feels the terrible weight of His agony bearing down upon His shoulders. He wants us to realize this; that is why He utters such a prayer.
But listen to what He immediately adds: "Nevertheless, Father, not My will but Thine be done." Here is the triumph of love. Because He loves His Father, He places the Will of His Father above everything else and accepts every possible suffering in order to redeem us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Empathy
Last night I wept. Not for me, not for my pain, my loss. I wept for my husband. His heartache.
We have been extraordinarily blessed to walk through this loss, this nightmare hand in hand. The hard facts show that 75 - 80% of couples dissolve after the loss of a child. I'm sure it unfolds over time, but we seem to be steady, strong ...together. I am eternally grateful for that. I can understand how the unraveling can happen. We all grieve differently, experience the loss from so many angles, which can isolate and distort ...even alienate loved ones from each other. My loss of Phoebe is different than my husband's.
At first, you just hang on for dear life. Sure, you do your day to day ...smile, laugh, seemingly navigate life successfully. But inside, it is hollow, empty, dark ...alone ...so very alone. So worried about the kids, their well-being, letting them know we're here, we love them, that the attentiveness to ourselves is minimal, never mind each other.
Gradually, in tiny ways, for fleeting moments our bearings are coming back. Glimmer enough to offer us a promise of the future ...a hope that one day, life will feel whole again. We'll always miss our girl, but we will feel whole in a new way. Right now, we're still groping in the dark, hoping for an opening.
So as I listened to my husband ...the life behind us washed over me and I was overwhelmed at his loss ...of her. Phoebe and her dad were best friends. Two adventurers, they talked all the time, and often didn't need words. Nor'easter ...check the tide chart, "c'mon, let's take a ride." Off they would go to check the surf. Wet suits, surf boards piled in the car after figuring out when the tide and wind would be right. And so it would begin, another season of surfing. While people were bringing in the lawn furniture, preparing for a storm ...Dad and Phoebe were tracking the eye of the storm ...when it hit Bermuda, North Carolina ...we'd get the swell, the waves would be high with clean sets coming in, ready to ride. Nantasket Beach.
Cliff jumping, snow boarding, hiking, rock climbing, snorkeling ...they did it all ...time and again. Belly laughs, sunburned noses and cheeks. Life was swell for these two. And while I was saying do your homework, put your laundry away, don't talk back ...my heart always skipped a beat when I'd see him wink at her "do what your mom tells you!" She loved her dad ...in a very special, tangible way ...she just really enjoyed who he was and what he was all about.
Just after she died, two of her friends were giggling recalling how she would rattle off facts with tremendous confidence. "How do you know that Phoebe?" they would ask. And for those of you who know Phoebe, you can picture, the quick jerk of her head, the scornful look, and the quick flip of the palm upward .."Cuz, my dad said so!" As if that was all that was needed. And for much of her life ...that was all that she needed.
He really loved her ...like any dad does their daughter. He could sit back and observe, enjoy her pontifications about life. Where I worried about preparing her for the world, raising her to be a capable, confident young woman of character and faith ...He just knew she would be okay. She was Phoebe. But, she wasn't okay ...and she didn't make it ...and we lost.
So I look at this man now, reaching for her still, and I know it hurts. I don't want him to hurt, to feel the loss quite so bad. And that is hard to watch, to know ...that this very strong man, has lost his best friend.
We're both still reaching for God, trusting Him, shaking our heads at the audacity of losing Phoebe.
I miss Phoebe so much, I still want to hear her footsteps creaking on the stairs. What's hard now is to watch someone else miss her as much as I do ...and know the depth of pain and sorrow that can't be eased, lessened. I wish I could take it away for him, take it on for him. I wish I could bring her back so they could surf again, cliff jump ...I just plain wish I could make it different. But I can't.
I think one day, when his own time comes, he'll be greeted by her walking towards him, Harlequin surfboard under her arm. "Hey dad, here give it a try, it's a little rough making it past the break, but once you do ...it's smooth as glass."
"Yeah?," he'll say, "you think the Harley's the best ride." "C'mon Dad!" she'll laugh "you know its the best ride ...what, you want one of those sissy shorty boards ...I don't think so Dad ...ride the Harley."
I wish ...and I hope ...thank God for hope.
Tonight I'll pray the fifth joyful mystery, The Finding in the Temple, for all of your intentions.
Finding in the Temple: Luke 2:46-47
And it came to pass, that, after three days, they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the doctors, hearing them, and asking them questions. And all that heard him were astonished at his wisdom and his answers.
"How is it that you sought Me? Did you not know that I must be about My Father's business?" This is the answer that Jesus gave to His Mother when, after three days' search she had the joy of finding Him in the Temple.
These are the first words coming from the lips of the Word Incarnate to be recorded in the Gospel.
In these words Jesus sums up His whole person, His whole life, His whole mission. They reveal His Divine Sonship; they testify to His supernatural mission. Christ's whole life will only be a clarifying and magnificent exposition of the meaning of these words.
St. Luke goes on to tell us that Mary "did not understand the word that He spoke." But even if Mary did not grasp the full significance of these words, she did not doubt that Jesus was the Son of God. This is why she submitted in silence to that Divine Will which had demanded such a sacrifice of her love.
"Mary kept these words of Jesus carefully in her heart." She kept them in her heart, for there was the tabernacle in which she adored the mystery concealed in the words of he Son, waiting until the full light of understanding would be granted her.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
We have been extraordinarily blessed to walk through this loss, this nightmare hand in hand. The hard facts show that 75 - 80% of couples dissolve after the loss of a child. I'm sure it unfolds over time, but we seem to be steady, strong ...together. I am eternally grateful for that. I can understand how the unraveling can happen. We all grieve differently, experience the loss from so many angles, which can isolate and distort ...even alienate loved ones from each other. My loss of Phoebe is different than my husband's.
At first, you just hang on for dear life. Sure, you do your day to day ...smile, laugh, seemingly navigate life successfully. But inside, it is hollow, empty, dark ...alone ...so very alone. So worried about the kids, their well-being, letting them know we're here, we love them, that the attentiveness to ourselves is minimal, never mind each other.
Gradually, in tiny ways, for fleeting moments our bearings are coming back. Glimmer enough to offer us a promise of the future ...a hope that one day, life will feel whole again. We'll always miss our girl, but we will feel whole in a new way. Right now, we're still groping in the dark, hoping for an opening.
So as I listened to my husband ...the life behind us washed over me and I was overwhelmed at his loss ...of her. Phoebe and her dad were best friends. Two adventurers, they talked all the time, and often didn't need words. Nor'easter ...check the tide chart, "c'mon, let's take a ride." Off they would go to check the surf. Wet suits, surf boards piled in the car after figuring out when the tide and wind would be right. And so it would begin, another season of surfing. While people were bringing in the lawn furniture, preparing for a storm ...Dad and Phoebe were tracking the eye of the storm ...when it hit Bermuda, North Carolina ...we'd get the swell, the waves would be high with clean sets coming in, ready to ride. Nantasket Beach.
Cliff jumping, snow boarding, hiking, rock climbing, snorkeling ...they did it all ...time and again. Belly laughs, sunburned noses and cheeks. Life was swell for these two. And while I was saying do your homework, put your laundry away, don't talk back ...my heart always skipped a beat when I'd see him wink at her "do what your mom tells you!" She loved her dad ...in a very special, tangible way ...she just really enjoyed who he was and what he was all about.
Just after she died, two of her friends were giggling recalling how she would rattle off facts with tremendous confidence. "How do you know that Phoebe?" they would ask. And for those of you who know Phoebe, you can picture, the quick jerk of her head, the scornful look, and the quick flip of the palm upward .."Cuz, my dad said so!" As if that was all that was needed. And for much of her life ...that was all that she needed.
He really loved her ...like any dad does their daughter. He could sit back and observe, enjoy her pontifications about life. Where I worried about preparing her for the world, raising her to be a capable, confident young woman of character and faith ...He just knew she would be okay. She was Phoebe. But, she wasn't okay ...and she didn't make it ...and we lost.
So I look at this man now, reaching for her still, and I know it hurts. I don't want him to hurt, to feel the loss quite so bad. And that is hard to watch, to know ...that this very strong man, has lost his best friend.
We're both still reaching for God, trusting Him, shaking our heads at the audacity of losing Phoebe.
I miss Phoebe so much, I still want to hear her footsteps creaking on the stairs. What's hard now is to watch someone else miss her as much as I do ...and know the depth of pain and sorrow that can't be eased, lessened. I wish I could take it away for him, take it on for him. I wish I could bring her back so they could surf again, cliff jump ...I just plain wish I could make it different. But I can't.
I think one day, when his own time comes, he'll be greeted by her walking towards him, Harlequin surfboard under her arm. "Hey dad, here give it a try, it's a little rough making it past the break, but once you do ...it's smooth as glass."
"Yeah?," he'll say, "you think the Harley's the best ride." "C'mon Dad!" she'll laugh "you know its the best ride ...what, you want one of those sissy shorty boards ...I don't think so Dad ...ride the Harley."
I wish ...and I hope ...thank God for hope.
Tonight I'll pray the fifth joyful mystery, The Finding in the Temple, for all of your intentions.
Finding in the Temple: Luke 2:46-47
And it came to pass, that, after three days, they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the doctors, hearing them, and asking them questions. And all that heard him were astonished at his wisdom and his answers.
"How is it that you sought Me? Did you not know that I must be about My Father's business?" This is the answer that Jesus gave to His Mother when, after three days' search she had the joy of finding Him in the Temple.
These are the first words coming from the lips of the Word Incarnate to be recorded in the Gospel.
In these words Jesus sums up His whole person, His whole life, His whole mission. They reveal His Divine Sonship; they testify to His supernatural mission. Christ's whole life will only be a clarifying and magnificent exposition of the meaning of these words.
St. Luke goes on to tell us that Mary "did not understand the word that He spoke." But even if Mary did not grasp the full significance of these words, she did not doubt that Jesus was the Son of God. This is why she submitted in silence to that Divine Will which had demanded such a sacrifice of her love.
"Mary kept these words of Jesus carefully in her heart." She kept them in her heart, for there was the tabernacle in which she adored the mystery concealed in the words of he Son, waiting until the full light of understanding would be granted her.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Forgiveness
It's funny how God guides me. Over the past few days the subject of forgiveness keeps presenting itself to me. All of us are affected by our families, present and past, just as we affect everyone we are related to. I know I am in need of forgiveness and forgiving. This is a beautiful prayer ...and I hope it helps all of us.
Tonight in place of the Rosary decade, I'll offer this prayer for all of you ...and I encourage all of you to do the same. May you be graced with His blessings.
PRAYER FOR HEALING THE FAMILY TREE
Rev. John H. Hampsch, C.M.F.
Heavenly Father, I come before you as your child in great need of your help. I have physical health need, emotional needs, spiritual needs, and interpersonal needs. Many of my problems have been caused by my own failures, neglect and sinfulness, for which I humbly be your forgiveness, Lord. But I also ask you to forgive the sins of my ancestors whose failures have left their effects on me in the form of unwanted tendencies, behavior patterns and defects in body, mind and spirit. Heal me, Lord, of all these disorders.
With your help I sincerely forgive everyone, especially living or dead members of my family tree, who have directly offended me or my loved ones in any way, or those whose sins have resulted in our present sufferings and disorders. In the name of your divine Son, Jesus, and in the power of his Holy Spirit, I ask you Father, to deliver me and my entire family tree from the influence of the evil one. Free all living and dead members of my family tree, including those in adoptive relationships, and those in extended family relationships, from every contaminating form of bondage. By your loving concern for us, heavenly Father, and by the shed blood of your precious Son, Jesus, I beg you to extend your blessing to me and to all my living and deceased relatives. Heal every negative effect transmitted through all past generations, and prevent such negative effects in future generations of my family tree.
I symbolically place the cross of Jesus over the head of each person in my family tree, and between each generation; I ask you to let the cleansing blood of Jesus purify the bloodlines in my family lineage. Set your protective angels to encamp around us, and permit Archangel Raphael, the patron of healing, to administer your divine healing power to all of us, even in areas of genetic disability. Give special power to our family members' guardian angels to heal, protect, guide and encourage each of us in all our needs. Let your healing power be released at this very moment, and let it continue as long as your sovereignty permits.
In our family tree, Lord, replace all bondage with a holy bonding in family love. And let there be an ever-deeper bonding with you, Lord, by the Holy Spirit, to your Son, Jesus. Let the family of the Holy Trinity pervade our family with its tender, warm, loving presence, so that our family may recognize and manifest that love in all our relationships. All of our unknown needs we include with this petition that we pray in Jesus' precious Name. Amen.
St. Joseph , patron of family life, pray for us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
Tonight in place of the Rosary decade, I'll offer this prayer for all of you ...and I encourage all of you to do the same. May you be graced with His blessings.
PRAYER FOR HEALING THE FAMILY TREE
Rev. John H. Hampsch, C.M.F.
Heavenly Father, I come before you as your child in great need of your help. I have physical health need, emotional needs, spiritual needs, and interpersonal needs. Many of my problems have been caused by my own failures, neglect and sinfulness, for which I humbly be your forgiveness, Lord. But I also ask you to forgive the sins of my ancestors whose failures have left their effects on me in the form of unwanted tendencies, behavior patterns and defects in body, mind and spirit. Heal me, Lord, of all these disorders.
With your help I sincerely forgive everyone, especially living or dead members of my family tree, who have directly offended me or my loved ones in any way, or those whose sins have resulted in our present sufferings and disorders. In the name of your divine Son, Jesus, and in the power of his Holy Spirit, I ask you Father, to deliver me and my entire family tree from the influence of the evil one. Free all living and dead members of my family tree, including those in adoptive relationships, and those in extended family relationships, from every contaminating form of bondage. By your loving concern for us, heavenly Father, and by the shed blood of your precious Son, Jesus, I beg you to extend your blessing to me and to all my living and deceased relatives. Heal every negative effect transmitted through all past generations, and prevent such negative effects in future generations of my family tree.
I symbolically place the cross of Jesus over the head of each person in my family tree, and between each generation; I ask you to let the cleansing blood of Jesus purify the bloodlines in my family lineage. Set your protective angels to encamp around us, and permit Archangel Raphael, the patron of healing, to administer your divine healing power to all of us, even in areas of genetic disability. Give special power to our family members' guardian angels to heal, protect, guide and encourage each of us in all our needs. Let your healing power be released at this very moment, and let it continue as long as your sovereignty permits.
In our family tree, Lord, replace all bondage with a holy bonding in family love. And let there be an ever-deeper bonding with you, Lord, by the Holy Spirit, to your Son, Jesus. Let the family of the Holy Trinity pervade our family with its tender, warm, loving presence, so that our family may recognize and manifest that love in all our relationships. All of our unknown needs we include with this petition that we pray in Jesus' precious Name. Amen.
St. Joseph , patron of family life, pray for us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Fighting to Climb
I like control ...a lot. This walk through grief isn't anything I can control ...it washes its own way, sets its own erratic pace. There is no cycle or rhythm that can be known. I think I'll hit bottom and the ascent back up for air will be steady ...but it isn't. I have no control. Relief finds me, and I breath ...and within moments I am falling again. What is God teaching me? Why must the lesson be so difficult to bear? Why am I so hard to teach? I really want to please God with my life, be what He wants me to be ...and I feel like I am failing. I feel caged. I don't feel free. I am terrified ...and I'm not even sure why. Keep choosing Him ...that's what echoes in my head. Keep choosing ...Him.
For a while, Phoebe was so near ...she is not now, she has stepped away. I ask her, and her answer is distant but firm ..."it must be this way now." I don't think that means forever, I just think it means there is something I am to learn now. And maybe the lesson won't be clear to me for quite some time, long after these days pass.
Grabbing hold of what I trust, bead by bead, I'm trying to climb out ...to the sunshine again, if only for a moment. This is not what I would choose ...this life without Phoebe. I want her back with me. I need her.
Tonight I pray the fourth Joyful mystery for all of your intentions. Please include a very special intention for a dear friend and one of her family members. Pray that all goes well, the news is good, and there lives will not be disrupted. Thank you.
Presentation: Luke 2:22-24
And after the days of her purification, according to the law of Moses, were accomplished, they carried him to Jerusalem, to present him to the Lord: As it is written in the law of the Lord: Every male opening the womb shall be called holy to the Lord: And to offer a sacrifice, according as it is written in the law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons...
On the day of the Presentation God received infinitely more glory than He had hitherto received in the temple from all the sacrifices and all the holocausts of the Old Testament. On this day it is His own Son Jesus Who is offered to Him, and Who offers to the Father the infinite homage of adoration, thanksgiving, expiation and supplication.
This is indeed a gift worthy of God.
And it is from the hands of the Virgin, full of grace, that this offering, so pleasing to God, is received. Mary's faith is perfect. Filled with the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, she has a clear understanding of the value of the offering which she is making to God at this moment; by His inspirations the Holy Spirit brings her soul into harmony with the interior dispositions of the heart of her Divine Son.
Just as Mary had given her consent in the name of all humanity when the angel announced to her the mystery of the Incarnation, so also on this day Mary offers Jesus to the Father in the name of the whole human race. For she knows that her Son is "the King of Glory, the new light enkindled before the dawn, the Master of life and death."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
For a while, Phoebe was so near ...she is not now, she has stepped away. I ask her, and her answer is distant but firm ..."it must be this way now." I don't think that means forever, I just think it means there is something I am to learn now. And maybe the lesson won't be clear to me for quite some time, long after these days pass.
Grabbing hold of what I trust, bead by bead, I'm trying to climb out ...to the sunshine again, if only for a moment. This is not what I would choose ...this life without Phoebe. I want her back with me. I need her.
Tonight I pray the fourth Joyful mystery for all of your intentions. Please include a very special intention for a dear friend and one of her family members. Pray that all goes well, the news is good, and there lives will not be disrupted. Thank you.
Presentation: Luke 2:22-24
And after the days of her purification, according to the law of Moses, were accomplished, they carried him to Jerusalem, to present him to the Lord: As it is written in the law of the Lord: Every male opening the womb shall be called holy to the Lord: And to offer a sacrifice, according as it is written in the law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons...
On the day of the Presentation God received infinitely more glory than He had hitherto received in the temple from all the sacrifices and all the holocausts of the Old Testament. On this day it is His own Son Jesus Who is offered to Him, and Who offers to the Father the infinite homage of adoration, thanksgiving, expiation and supplication.
This is indeed a gift worthy of God.
And it is from the hands of the Virgin, full of grace, that this offering, so pleasing to God, is received. Mary's faith is perfect. Filled with the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, she has a clear understanding of the value of the offering which she is making to God at this moment; by His inspirations the Holy Spirit brings her soul into harmony with the interior dispositions of the heart of her Divine Son.
Just as Mary had given her consent in the name of all humanity when the angel announced to her the mystery of the Incarnation, so also on this day Mary offers Jesus to the Father in the name of the whole human race. For she knows that her Son is "the King of Glory, the new light enkindled before the dawn, the Master of life and death."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Climbing
As I listen to the countless stories by parents who have walked this path before me, one thing is mentioned over and over. Overwhelming sorrow, grief and fear will grip you seemingly from nowhere ...no warning ...just appears and grabs you with all it's strength ...taking us down all over again. It is a climb for sure. We make our way one treacherous step at a time, seemingly finding a groove, a rhythm to move us onward, only to step on one loose stone sending us to the very base where our ascent began. The difference is that when we began we had no sense of the terrain, now we do. We've learned a few small rings that make navigating the climb a bit less unfriendly. The walk of sorrow becomes our friend. Yesterday was horrible ...there was nothing anyone could say or do....it just had to be. Today was better, still hard, but I was busy, around others and involved in a task that kept my mind focused on something else. Those twists and turns still lurched in my gut, and my chest felt compressed. But I could pass the time, without desperation. They say the physical toll on one's body is enormous. I have no doubt that if I were to go a doctor they could find something terribly wrong. For today, it had eased up some, this pain. Still not free from the gripping anxiety, I know now it will pass. And I know too it will come again.
Last week a dad new to grief shared something that made a lot of sense. He came from a large family, close to their parents. Both parents, whom he loved very much, died within a year of each other. He shared how him and his siblings were devastated. Then he lost his son. ...said he had no idea what true grief was until then ...until his son died. Agony to watch him say this, like looking in a mirror, seeing the broken, bleeding heart. Through sobs ...he said ...my son is worth the pain. Yes, I thought ...my Phoebe is worth the pain, the suffering.
I will learn this rhythm, this chronic sorrow, missing. Knowing that rhythm, trusting in it frees me from despair, that loss of hope that brings us so far away from God. When I go away from Him, I go away from Phoebe ...and I don't want to go away from either one.
Yes, this pain will recede ...the extreme, physical agony and anguish that enters every cell will lessen for a bit. And the sun will shine for a time. The clouds will move in, and rain will fall. I will climb and fall, climb and fall ...but with every climb I seem to go a little higher. I know that now ....that the fall is part of the climb ...just is. How I wish Phoebe had remembered that as she was falling ... that it was just part of the climb.
Tonight I offer the third joyful mystery, the Nativity, for your intentions.
Nativity: Luke 2:6-7
And it came to pass, that when they were there, her days were accomplished, that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him up in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
The Virgin Mary sees in the Infant that she has given to the world, a child in appearance like all other children, the very Son of God. Mary's soul was filled with an immense faith which welled up in her and surpassed the faith of all the just men of the Old Testament; this is why she recognized her God in her own Son.
This faith manifests itself externally by an act of adoration. From her very first glance at Jesus, the Virgin prostrated herself interiorly in a spirit of adoration so profound that we can never fathom its depth.
In the heart of Mary are joined in perfect harmony a creature's adoration of her God and a Mother's love for her only Son.
How inconceivably great the joy in the soul of Jesus must have been as He experienced this boundless love of His Mother! Between these two souls took place ceaseless exchanges of love which brought them into ever closer unity. O wonderful exchange: to Mary Jesus gives the greatest gifts and graces, and to Jesus Mary gives her fullest cooperation: after the union of the Divine Persons in the Blessed Trinity and the hypostatic union of the divine and human natures in the Incarnation, no more glorious or more profound union can be conceived than the union between Jesus and Mary.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light nine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Last week a dad new to grief shared something that made a lot of sense. He came from a large family, close to their parents. Both parents, whom he loved very much, died within a year of each other. He shared how him and his siblings were devastated. Then he lost his son. ...said he had no idea what true grief was until then ...until his son died. Agony to watch him say this, like looking in a mirror, seeing the broken, bleeding heart. Through sobs ...he said ...my son is worth the pain. Yes, I thought ...my Phoebe is worth the pain, the suffering.
I will learn this rhythm, this chronic sorrow, missing. Knowing that rhythm, trusting in it frees me from despair, that loss of hope that brings us so far away from God. When I go away from Him, I go away from Phoebe ...and I don't want to go away from either one.
Yes, this pain will recede ...the extreme, physical agony and anguish that enters every cell will lessen for a bit. And the sun will shine for a time. The clouds will move in, and rain will fall. I will climb and fall, climb and fall ...but with every climb I seem to go a little higher. I know that now ....that the fall is part of the climb ...just is. How I wish Phoebe had remembered that as she was falling ... that it was just part of the climb.
Tonight I offer the third joyful mystery, the Nativity, for your intentions.
Nativity: Luke 2:6-7
And it came to pass, that when they were there, her days were accomplished, that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him up in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
The Virgin Mary sees in the Infant that she has given to the world, a child in appearance like all other children, the very Son of God. Mary's soul was filled with an immense faith which welled up in her and surpassed the faith of all the just men of the Old Testament; this is why she recognized her God in her own Son.
This faith manifests itself externally by an act of adoration. From her very first glance at Jesus, the Virgin prostrated herself interiorly in a spirit of adoration so profound that we can never fathom its depth.
In the heart of Mary are joined in perfect harmony a creature's adoration of her God and a Mother's love for her only Son.
How inconceivably great the joy in the soul of Jesus must have been as He experienced this boundless love of His Mother! Between these two souls took place ceaseless exchanges of love which brought them into ever closer unity. O wonderful exchange: to Mary Jesus gives the greatest gifts and graces, and to Jesus Mary gives her fullest cooperation: after the union of the Divine Persons in the Blessed Trinity and the hypostatic union of the divine and human natures in the Incarnation, no more glorious or more profound union can be conceived than the union between Jesus and Mary.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light nine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Slammed
Heaviness lay upon me in the wee hours of this morning. The day nears its end, and I am glad. It was a very rough day, easy tears, nausea, tremendous anxiety ...unrelenting ...and the why, why, why. It settled for the day. Someone had shared that the broken heart pain, the shatter of pointed edges residing in your chest, transitions as the grief moves on, not away, but on, and settles in your gut. I felt that creeping change, amazed that what was described would happen ...in fact, had. I don't know if it will travel back and forth, or stay here in my gut, leaving me twisted, uneasy. One day, perhaps it will be such a part of me I won't notice it anymore.
I have a special bouquet of friends. Its almost as if they take turns reading my mind. Today, as I struggled to keep the tears at bay, force a smile ...stuff away the pain ...she handed me something and said it made her think of me. The tears came. Yes, it makes me think of me too ... thank you dear friend. I had not seen this beautiful poem. I wasn't meant too until today, when its poignancy would pierce me. As I wrestle with how he holds me close and then seemingly lets go of me ...leaving me alone.
The Kiss of Christ
Lo, there He hangs
dying figure pinned
against the wood.
God, grant that I might
love Him
even as I should.
I draw a little closer to
share His love divine,
and softly hear Him
whisper,
"O foolish child of Mine
if now I should embrace
you, My hands would stain
you red,
and if I bent to kiss you,
My thorns would
pierce your head."
'Twas then I learned in
meekness
That love demands a
price;
'Twas the I knew that
sorrow was just
The kiss of Christ.
Tonight I offer the second joyful mystery, the Visitation for all of your intentions.
Visitation : Luke 1:42-45
And she cried out with a loud voice, and said: Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. And whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For behold as soon as the voice of thy salutation sounded in my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed art thou that hast believed, because those things shall be accomplished that were spoken to thee by the Lord.
See how the Holy Spirit greets the Virgin Mary through the mouth of Elizabeth: "Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb! And blessed art thou that hast believed, because those things shall be accomplished that were spoke to thee by the Lord."
Blessed indeed, for by this faith in the word of God the Virgin Mary became the Mother of Christ.
What finite creature has ever received honor such as this from the Infinite Being?
Mary gives all the glory to the Lord for the marvelous things which are accomplished in her. From the moment of the Incarnation the Virgin Mother sings in her heart a canticle full of love and gratitude.
In the presence of her cousin Elizabeth she allows the most profound sentiments of her heart to break forth in song; she intones the "Magnificat" which, in the course of centuries, her children will repeat with her to praise God for having chosen her among all women:
"My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, Because He has regarded the lowliness of His handmaid... Because He Who is mighty has done great things for me And holy is His name."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
I have a special bouquet of friends. Its almost as if they take turns reading my mind. Today, as I struggled to keep the tears at bay, force a smile ...stuff away the pain ...she handed me something and said it made her think of me. The tears came. Yes, it makes me think of me too ... thank you dear friend. I had not seen this beautiful poem. I wasn't meant too until today, when its poignancy would pierce me. As I wrestle with how he holds me close and then seemingly lets go of me ...leaving me alone.
The Kiss of Christ
Lo, there He hangs
dying figure pinned
against the wood.
God, grant that I might
love Him
even as I should.
I draw a little closer to
share His love divine,
and softly hear Him
whisper,
"O foolish child of Mine
if now I should embrace
you, My hands would stain
you red,
and if I bent to kiss you,
My thorns would
pierce your head."
'Twas then I learned in
meekness
That love demands a
price;
'Twas the I knew that
sorrow was just
The kiss of Christ.
Tonight I offer the second joyful mystery, the Visitation for all of your intentions.
Visitation : Luke 1:42-45
And she cried out with a loud voice, and said: Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. And whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For behold as soon as the voice of thy salutation sounded in my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed art thou that hast believed, because those things shall be accomplished that were spoken to thee by the Lord.
See how the Holy Spirit greets the Virgin Mary through the mouth of Elizabeth: "Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb! And blessed art thou that hast believed, because those things shall be accomplished that were spoke to thee by the Lord."
Blessed indeed, for by this faith in the word of God the Virgin Mary became the Mother of Christ.
What finite creature has ever received honor such as this from the Infinite Being?
Mary gives all the glory to the Lord for the marvelous things which are accomplished in her. From the moment of the Incarnation the Virgin Mother sings in her heart a canticle full of love and gratitude.
In the presence of her cousin Elizabeth she allows the most profound sentiments of her heart to break forth in song; she intones the "Magnificat" which, in the course of centuries, her children will repeat with her to praise God for having chosen her among all women:
"My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, Because He has regarded the lowliness of His handmaid... Because He Who is mighty has done great things for me And holy is His name."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Walking Alone
Each day I find ways to ask each one of my kids how things are ...see how they're doing. For years Phoebe's sisters, and youngest brother sat side by side, played, sang, fought as we homeschooled our way through the days, weeks, years. Homeschooling forges a special bond, a tie, an intimacy that cannot be replaced. The essence of education is in the essence of the family ...and the faith. Education does not exist without the family ...and the family does not exist without the faith ...the education. Unless you've homeschooled, this probably makes no sense, but the point is ...these kids had a unique bond with their big sister. Of course I worry about them every day. Everyone seems to be doing okay ...thankfully. It's quite unusual we would all be doing as well as we are. It doesn't mean there isn't sorrow, missing, pain, confusion ...all sorts of emotions, but I think what it means is when we root ourselves in faith ... as difficult as our culture makes that ...we have a life boat, a safety net ...a rescue. Compound with friendships, expanded by friendships creating a web of prayer that keeps us safe ...whole. We are rebuilding, retooling, revising ...all by the grace of God.
I wish we weren't in this place. I wish we were planning for Phoebe ...for her transition from high school to adulthood ...from seventeen to eighteen. She always wanted to be eighteen. Maybe she thought she would be sad when she turned that age she so desired. Kind of like when the Red Sox finally won the World Series after decades of loss. The victory, the arrival was sweet ...but truly something was lost. The chase was over. I think Phoebe loved the chase for freedom, independence ...eighteen. Maybe she wanted the eternal chase ...she'll never reach eighteen.
But for us ...the days that approach remind us of her mission, and we carry that forward for her. It's one of the ways we make it through, reaching for the milestones meant for Phoebe. Yesterday I sent off pictures for her yearbook. She will still be part of her high school's history ...part of what made the graduating class the fine young women they've become. It was painful, heartbreaking for me to pull together the one's I thought best. Only a few, but one's that attempt to capture the essence of her life with us ...her life. Those pages pay tribute to a girl meant to be with us now, still. The sorrow is deep and abiding ...adjacent is a sense of peace, a joy emerging day by day as a new life, a new normal, a new way of being emerges.
Joy has become part of my life, once again. In a very different way, I live "up there" with her. She comes along with me everywhere ...even in the shower I talk to her and I hear her say "Mom, you're not even dressed, I'll talk to you when your covered" and together we giggle. I can't explain these conversations. I don't feel crazy, I don't sense that I'm living in another world, inside my own head. There is no sense of her physical presence, just the funny little dialogues that belonged to just us. She would often sit on my bed when I showered and when I came from the bathroom in a towel she would scold me for immodesty, aghast at my behavior and I would remind her she was in my room without an invitation. Often she would storm out in complete disgust. She had promised me, actually I had made her promise, that when I am old and wild hair begins sprouting from unusual areas on my face she would be in charge. Sadly, I reminded her, told her I was on my own. I don't know if my other girls would be as honest with me. She giggled in my head and said she would still help me, make sure the sun shone on them when I could see. "Always carry tweezers with you Mawma." she laughed. I am texting on her phone since mine broke; clearly I lack the dexterity she had. Over my shoulder, I see her sighing at my inability to navigate the miniscule keyboard. Her breath falls on my neck as she leans in close and watches me send messages to her best friends, checking in, staying close. I see her names for them in her contact list, oddly merged with mine when I switched sim cards. Her names for cherished ones.
I shop and she is there, pointing out colors, things for the house ...she still has a say, and she knows it. I walk this life without her, yet so much a part of her. Phoebe follows me from room to room, certain places, spaces provoke me, bring out the anger ...and I scold her, let her see the rawness she has left me with, the open wound that will never heal. I sit by the fire and she eases in, stays with me. Her life is still ...will never die. The body is gone, the molecules that made her visibile, touchable are gone ...but she is still. There are no words that can describe it ...this thing, this companionship I have. Reminds me of a book I read a few years back, Peace Like a River, I forget the author. The father in the book is often seen conversing with someone, unseen. Seems like he's gone mad. But he's sensible, responsible ...at peace. He is talking to God. It feels like that in a way ...she's right here. Is that because I choose her to be here, make her be here when she isn't, or is it real ...is this some grace to get me through? Someone asked recently of those of us who've lost a child when you stop feeling their presence, forget the smell of them, their movement, expressions ...when does that go? The answer came back ...never. Eight, sixteen, twenty years later, parents haven't forgotten the essence of their child. It never fades, it stays as strong as the last time you were with that child. Thank God! To hear that soothes so much. One of the greatest fears is they will be forgotten ...by their own parent. I don't fear that so much now. I know she is here, with us. My littles blow kisses to her and know she blows them back. She collects our prayers for us, making them a bouquet for when we greet her again.
Still, there are moments of such loss, such emptiness as I see her yearbook pages take shape, telling a bit of her story ...that is finished, here anyway. Plop down next to me on the couch dear girl and please, please, please tell me how much you need a new pair of jeans because you only have 57 pairs. Please!?
I sit alone, I walk alone, without my Phoebe. I miss her. And as I write these words a package has come, delivered from the only one whose arms Phoebe flew into before even knowing her. Neenie. Phoebe would not let people look at her, never mind hold her, if she didn't know you. But before words were exchanged between Phoebe and Neenie, they enveloped each other ...and loved each other for a very long time. Two open it up, knowing the love of the two that sent it. Please, please, they beg me. Okay I mouth, quietly. I hear crinkles. Something yummy, I suspect. My battery begins to die and demands to be plugged in, so I go to the kitchen and there on the counter is a box of heart shaped cookies frosted in pink buttercream ...Phoebe's favorite kind of cookie. Here she is again! Letting me know ...and you know too, she still claims her space here ...still is so much a part of us. And how fitting for her and us they would come from Neenie and Poppa. I ask her to sit on the couch and ask me for jeans ...she brings a box of her favorite cookies in the shape of a heart. Am I reading into things ...maybe! I don't think so, Phoebe just keeps the bonds strong. Seeing with the eyes of faith is the reward of trusting in Him, having confidence in our creator.
Cookies from Neenie and Poppa ...a little bit of Heaven on earth! Phoebe's favorite cookie ...a little bit of earth in Heaven.
Tonight I will pray the first joyful mystery, The Annunciation, for all of you fine reader and your intentions, join me if you care to, and let us know your prayer requests by posting them in the comments. We can pray for those posted later, in the next decade offered.
Annunciation: Luke 1:31-32
Behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and shalt bring forth a son; and thou shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the most High; and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of David his father; and he shall reign in the house of Jacob for ever.
Picture the scene of the Annunciation. God proposes the mystery of the Incarnation which He will accomplish in the Virgin Mary--but not until she has given her consent. The accomplishment of the mystery is held in suspense awaiting the free acceptance of Mary. At this moment Mary represents all of us in her own person; it is as if God is waiting for the response of the humanity to which He longs to unite Himself. What a solemn moment this is! For upon this moment depends the decision of the most vital mystery of Christianity.
But see how Mary gives her answer. Full of faith and confidence in the heavenly message and entirely submissive to the Divine Will, the Virgin Mary replies in a spirit of complete and absolute abandonment: "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to Thy word." This "Fiat" is Mary's consent to the Divine Plan of Redemption. It is like an echo of the "Fiat" of the creation of the world. But this is a new world, a world infinitely superior, a world of grace, which God will cause to arise in consequence of Mary's consent, for at that moment the Divine Word, the second Person of the Blessed Trinity, becomes Man in Mary: "And the Word was made Flesh and dwelt among us."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
I wish we weren't in this place. I wish we were planning for Phoebe ...for her transition from high school to adulthood ...from seventeen to eighteen. She always wanted to be eighteen. Maybe she thought she would be sad when she turned that age she so desired. Kind of like when the Red Sox finally won the World Series after decades of loss. The victory, the arrival was sweet ...but truly something was lost. The chase was over. I think Phoebe loved the chase for freedom, independence ...eighteen. Maybe she wanted the eternal chase ...she'll never reach eighteen.
But for us ...the days that approach remind us of her mission, and we carry that forward for her. It's one of the ways we make it through, reaching for the milestones meant for Phoebe. Yesterday I sent off pictures for her yearbook. She will still be part of her high school's history ...part of what made the graduating class the fine young women they've become. It was painful, heartbreaking for me to pull together the one's I thought best. Only a few, but one's that attempt to capture the essence of her life with us ...her life. Those pages pay tribute to a girl meant to be with us now, still. The sorrow is deep and abiding ...adjacent is a sense of peace, a joy emerging day by day as a new life, a new normal, a new way of being emerges.
Joy has become part of my life, once again. In a very different way, I live "up there" with her. She comes along with me everywhere ...even in the shower I talk to her and I hear her say "Mom, you're not even dressed, I'll talk to you when your covered" and together we giggle. I can't explain these conversations. I don't feel crazy, I don't sense that I'm living in another world, inside my own head. There is no sense of her physical presence, just the funny little dialogues that belonged to just us. She would often sit on my bed when I showered and when I came from the bathroom in a towel she would scold me for immodesty, aghast at my behavior and I would remind her she was in my room without an invitation. Often she would storm out in complete disgust. She had promised me, actually I had made her promise, that when I am old and wild hair begins sprouting from unusual areas on my face she would be in charge. Sadly, I reminded her, told her I was on my own. I don't know if my other girls would be as honest with me. She giggled in my head and said she would still help me, make sure the sun shone on them when I could see. "Always carry tweezers with you Mawma." she laughed. I am texting on her phone since mine broke; clearly I lack the dexterity she had. Over my shoulder, I see her sighing at my inability to navigate the miniscule keyboard. Her breath falls on my neck as she leans in close and watches me send messages to her best friends, checking in, staying close. I see her names for them in her contact list, oddly merged with mine when I switched sim cards. Her names for cherished ones.
I shop and she is there, pointing out colors, things for the house ...she still has a say, and she knows it. I walk this life without her, yet so much a part of her. Phoebe follows me from room to room, certain places, spaces provoke me, bring out the anger ...and I scold her, let her see the rawness she has left me with, the open wound that will never heal. I sit by the fire and she eases in, stays with me. Her life is still ...will never die. The body is gone, the molecules that made her visibile, touchable are gone ...but she is still. There are no words that can describe it ...this thing, this companionship I have. Reminds me of a book I read a few years back, Peace Like a River, I forget the author. The father in the book is often seen conversing with someone, unseen. Seems like he's gone mad. But he's sensible, responsible ...at peace. He is talking to God. It feels like that in a way ...she's right here. Is that because I choose her to be here, make her be here when she isn't, or is it real ...is this some grace to get me through? Someone asked recently of those of us who've lost a child when you stop feeling their presence, forget the smell of them, their movement, expressions ...when does that go? The answer came back ...never. Eight, sixteen, twenty years later, parents haven't forgotten the essence of their child. It never fades, it stays as strong as the last time you were with that child. Thank God! To hear that soothes so much. One of the greatest fears is they will be forgotten ...by their own parent. I don't fear that so much now. I know she is here, with us. My littles blow kisses to her and know she blows them back. She collects our prayers for us, making them a bouquet for when we greet her again.
Still, there are moments of such loss, such emptiness as I see her yearbook pages take shape, telling a bit of her story ...that is finished, here anyway. Plop down next to me on the couch dear girl and please, please, please tell me how much you need a new pair of jeans because you only have 57 pairs. Please!?
I sit alone, I walk alone, without my Phoebe. I miss her. And as I write these words a package has come, delivered from the only one whose arms Phoebe flew into before even knowing her. Neenie. Phoebe would not let people look at her, never mind hold her, if she didn't know you. But before words were exchanged between Phoebe and Neenie, they enveloped each other ...and loved each other for a very long time. Two open it up, knowing the love of the two that sent it. Please, please, they beg me. Okay I mouth, quietly. I hear crinkles. Something yummy, I suspect. My battery begins to die and demands to be plugged in, so I go to the kitchen and there on the counter is a box of heart shaped cookies frosted in pink buttercream ...Phoebe's favorite kind of cookie. Here she is again! Letting me know ...and you know too, she still claims her space here ...still is so much a part of us. And how fitting for her and us they would come from Neenie and Poppa. I ask her to sit on the couch and ask me for jeans ...she brings a box of her favorite cookies in the shape of a heart. Am I reading into things ...maybe! I don't think so, Phoebe just keeps the bonds strong. Seeing with the eyes of faith is the reward of trusting in Him, having confidence in our creator.
Cookies from Neenie and Poppa ...a little bit of Heaven on earth! Phoebe's favorite cookie ...a little bit of earth in Heaven.
Tonight I will pray the first joyful mystery, The Annunciation, for all of you fine reader and your intentions, join me if you care to, and let us know your prayer requests by posting them in the comments. We can pray for those posted later, in the next decade offered.
Annunciation: Luke 1:31-32
Behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and shalt bring forth a son; and thou shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the most High; and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of David his father; and he shall reign in the house of Jacob for ever.
Picture the scene of the Annunciation. God proposes the mystery of the Incarnation which He will accomplish in the Virgin Mary--but not until she has given her consent. The accomplishment of the mystery is held in suspense awaiting the free acceptance of Mary. At this moment Mary represents all of us in her own person; it is as if God is waiting for the response of the humanity to which He longs to unite Himself. What a solemn moment this is! For upon this moment depends the decision of the most vital mystery of Christianity.
But see how Mary gives her answer. Full of faith and confidence in the heavenly message and entirely submissive to the Divine Will, the Virgin Mary replies in a spirit of complete and absolute abandonment: "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to Thy word." This "Fiat" is Mary's consent to the Divine Plan of Redemption. It is like an echo of the "Fiat" of the creation of the world. But this is a new world, a world infinitely superior, a world of grace, which God will cause to arise in consequence of Mary's consent, for at that moment the Divine Word, the second Person of the Blessed Trinity, becomes Man in Mary: "And the Word was made Flesh and dwelt among us."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Devotions
There's lots of things that can discourage a mother. Trying to raise your children in the authentic faith is a daunting task ...it is so beyond the realm of the "typical." But, I am committed and convicted to give it my all ...even when it seems unattainable. The other day, I stole a few moments of quiet to spend some time in prayer, conversing (complaining) with God. I wanted to say my rosary and read a little about St. Joseph. Just a few moments of quiet, time to myself ...a few moments free from the demands, to restore, refresh. It was Sunday ....the day of rest, yet there I was doing all the typical tasks of the day. Sunday is a day to reflect on God a little more than usual, spend time with family, friends ...a day to stay away from the stores ...away from the regularity of life ...a time to renew. Maria Von Trapp (Sound of Music) had written a little book, really little, called "Land Without A Sunday." She reflected on how Russia had made Sunday ...just another day ...no different from any other ...another day away from God. I took that book to heart. As a child, I remember the empty parking lots, the Sunday dinner, the different pace and tone. That changed. Still, we try to keep Sunday free of shopping (much to my kids chagrin), free from the regular. So this past Sunday as I saw too much of a regular day creeping in, taking hold, I removed myself. For nearly 21 years now, this momma doesn't get too far ...alone. First one, quietly sat beside me ...then another climbed on my lap, while someone else sat on the arm of the couch, huddled close. "What are you doing?" "Praying, saying my rosary." One left to bring back more beads and asked if they could join me. At first I had thought my quiet time was gone ...though its always good to pray together. Still, I had wanted a little bit of time to give God my whole list of latest complaints and suggestions for how He should operate from Heaven. As we started, two other girls gave sideways glances and settled close by, but not close enough to be accused of joining it ...but they stayed ...quietly. And we prayed the rosary ...one of the most beautiful I've ever offered. My little cherubs so eager and open to hear stories of each mystery, asking questions and taken by the magnitude of God's love for them. I've known for many years the importance of the rosary. It was an afternoon of passing on my devotion to the rosary. I've been doing that for many many years, but there was something unique about this particular afternoon ...this particular rosary.
Long ago, my own mother would quietly settle into the living room couch to pray her own rosary. She'd read her book, say her prayers. I didn't know at the time how much she was teaching me, showing me how to stay close to God. As my kids joined me in my "quiet" prayer time, Lucy told me very softly, with a sweet smile, "Mom, it was Phoebe who taught me the rosary. I remember the day she showed me how." One more little visit, nod from Heaven. I hadn't known that, had assumed Lucy just learned as we went along ...but it was Phoebe who made it Lucy's own devotion ...had taken it from imitation to devotion.
Devotions are an important thing in the life of the faithful. Places and times have found Catholics without Mass, without the sacraments. What has kept the faith alive, sustained us for years and years are the devotions. Bead by bead, the rosary links us from the past ...to the present ...to the future, our heavenly future. It's part of our daily life ...imploring the Blessed Mother, bead by bead, to lead us to her Son. It was a gift, a treasure passed on to me. Entrusted to me to pass on to my own. I hope I've done that well. In the past, I've hoped that such devotion would protect us from worldly struggles. Devotions, the rosary, are not magic potions. Despite all the rosaries Phoebe had said, she died far too young. Seemingly, it hasn't given us an armor that makes us totally resistant, untouchable. But I do think it gives us sure footing ...a foundation to return to over and over as we walk through the treacherous path of life. Devotion to the rosary doesn't remove us from the world, but I believe it aids us in walking through the world with our gaze fixed on eternity. A gaze fixed on eternity cuts out a lot of gazing at the glitter of this world ...which can all too often distract us from God.
Each time I post, I'd like to offer a decade of the rosary for the intentions of anyone who reads here.
If you'd like to make your intentions known, post them in the comments. So many people have prayed for Phoebe, my family, me ...I can never repay the generosity that has literally kept us afloat, kept our gaze fixed on Heaven. It is a very small way to say THANK YOU!
Bead by precious bead ...we'll all make our way home.
Since tonight brings an end to the Christmas season as we celebrate Candlemas, the Presentation of Our Lord, I'll start out of order with the third Joyful mystery, The Presentation. I'm asking Phoebe to join us as well ...and I think she will!
The Presentation:
Presentation: Luke 2:22-24
And after the days of her purification, according to the law of Moses, were accomplished, they carried him to Jerusalem, to present him to the Lord: As it is written in the law of the Lord: Every male opening the womb shall be called holy to the Lord: And to offer a sacrifice, according as it is written in the law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons...
On the day of the Presentation God received infinitely more glory than He had hitherto received in the temple from all the sacrifices and all the holocausts of the Old Testament. On this day it is His own Son Jesus Who is offered to Him, and Who offers to the Father the infinite homage of adoration, thanksgiving, expiation and supplication.
This is indeed a gift worthy of God.
And it is from the hands of the Virgin, full of grace, that this offering, so pleasing to God, is received. Mary's faith is perfect. Filled with the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, she has a clear understanding of the value of the offering which she is making to God at this moment; by His inspirations the Holy Spirit brings her soul into harmony with the interior dispositions of the heart of her Divine Son.
Just as Mary had given her consent in the name of all humanity when the angel announced to her the mystery of the Incarnation, so also on this day Mary offers Jesus to the Father in the name of the whole human race. For she knows that her Son is "the King of Glory, the new light enkindled before the dawn, the Master of life and death."
Taken from Fisheaters.com
Long ago, my own mother would quietly settle into the living room couch to pray her own rosary. She'd read her book, say her prayers. I didn't know at the time how much she was teaching me, showing me how to stay close to God. As my kids joined me in my "quiet" prayer time, Lucy told me very softly, with a sweet smile, "Mom, it was Phoebe who taught me the rosary. I remember the day she showed me how." One more little visit, nod from Heaven. I hadn't known that, had assumed Lucy just learned as we went along ...but it was Phoebe who made it Lucy's own devotion ...had taken it from imitation to devotion.
Devotions are an important thing in the life of the faithful. Places and times have found Catholics without Mass, without the sacraments. What has kept the faith alive, sustained us for years and years are the devotions. Bead by bead, the rosary links us from the past ...to the present ...to the future, our heavenly future. It's part of our daily life ...imploring the Blessed Mother, bead by bead, to lead us to her Son. It was a gift, a treasure passed on to me. Entrusted to me to pass on to my own. I hope I've done that well. In the past, I've hoped that such devotion would protect us from worldly struggles. Devotions, the rosary, are not magic potions. Despite all the rosaries Phoebe had said, she died far too young. Seemingly, it hasn't given us an armor that makes us totally resistant, untouchable. But I do think it gives us sure footing ...a foundation to return to over and over as we walk through the treacherous path of life. Devotion to the rosary doesn't remove us from the world, but I believe it aids us in walking through the world with our gaze fixed on eternity. A gaze fixed on eternity cuts out a lot of gazing at the glitter of this world ...which can all too often distract us from God.
Each time I post, I'd like to offer a decade of the rosary for the intentions of anyone who reads here.
If you'd like to make your intentions known, post them in the comments. So many people have prayed for Phoebe, my family, me ...I can never repay the generosity that has literally kept us afloat, kept our gaze fixed on Heaven. It is a very small way to say THANK YOU!
Bead by precious bead ...we'll all make our way home.
Since tonight brings an end to the Christmas season as we celebrate Candlemas, the Presentation of Our Lord, I'll start out of order with the third Joyful mystery, The Presentation. I'm asking Phoebe to join us as well ...and I think she will!
The Presentation:
Presentation: Luke 2:22-24
And after the days of her purification, according to the law of Moses, were accomplished, they carried him to Jerusalem, to present him to the Lord: As it is written in the law of the Lord: Every male opening the womb shall be called holy to the Lord: And to offer a sacrifice, according as it is written in the law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons...
On the day of the Presentation God received infinitely more glory than He had hitherto received in the temple from all the sacrifices and all the holocausts of the Old Testament. On this day it is His own Son Jesus Who is offered to Him, and Who offers to the Father the infinite homage of adoration, thanksgiving, expiation and supplication.
This is indeed a gift worthy of God.
And it is from the hands of the Virgin, full of grace, that this offering, so pleasing to God, is received. Mary's faith is perfect. Filled with the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, she has a clear understanding of the value of the offering which she is making to God at this moment; by His inspirations the Holy Spirit brings her soul into harmony with the interior dispositions of the heart of her Divine Son.
Just as Mary had given her consent in the name of all humanity when the angel announced to her the mystery of the Incarnation, so also on this day Mary offers Jesus to the Father in the name of the whole human race. For she knows that her Son is "the King of Glory, the new light enkindled before the dawn, the Master of life and death."
Taken from Fisheaters.com
May your prayers be answered and your heart converted to true union with the will of God.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Bringing us Closer
I like it when the cloud lifts ...even just a little. I wish I could stay in the moments of peace, the bliss of happy remembering. Seems once you take them in, appreciate their worth ..they go. Perhaps those moments wouldn't have the weight, intensity, the joy ...if they stayed too long. Those rest posts along the way ...are just that, resting posts. Beacons that light the way ahead, forward, onward, assurance there is a path ...a destination. Some day we'll arrive. We all need some time to rest, gather our thoughts, take in the view, take stock. I don't know if we could sustain the measure of this grief if rest never came. Those moments grow a bit longer each time they come now. We're told as life goes on that will happen ...and the times of sorrow, deep, searing pain, lessen. I hope so. Thinking back on just a few days ago, I try to regain my desire to join Phoebe, let her lead me and accept her invitation to live in peace ...in the fullness of the peace she is in now. It is far more appealing than trying to chisel out my own sense of peace. I think about so many things that are supposed to be happening now. Loose ends beginning to come together as her life takes shape ...leading towards a future. And it is here I find myself stuck. Caught between what was supposed to be ...who she was supposed to become over this year and the coming months ....and now, who she is and what she has become. Our ultimate goal as parents is to get our children to Heaven. How often do we stop and consider all the stuff in between their birth ...and their death? Our children are not supposed to die before us ...long after, so most of what we do is plan, guide and assist them in entering adulthood, forming a life of their own. For many years our goal has been to get our kids to Heaven ...but it takes a new meaning, grows heftier when their lives are jettisoned towards that goal far sooner than anticipated.
I believe God has blessed me deeply with a knowledge and assurance that Phoebe is indeed in Heaven. I hesitate to say that because I don't want to mislead or misconstrue what our faith teaches. Our culture, even those within the Church, tend to send people immediately to Heaven. But we know as Catholics that Christ taught us differently ...and most of us will go to Purgatory for a time, while others will end up in Hell. I know the notion of Hell isn't popular and that plenty suggest vehemently it does not exist ...but, it does. Not my opinion, just a fact. Christ spoke quite clearly about its existence and the reality of souls going there. I wrestled with where my Phoebe had gone ...I didn't assume anything, but certainly struggled with the not knowing ...But God is kind, and knows this mother's heart. He gave me peace.
So, we have attained our goal for our daughter. Why then, does that not settle the heart? It is a tough, tough thing to accept ...because I'm human, stubborn ...a mother. I want to call the shots. I never really could though with Phoebe. Always fiercely independent, there was a part of mothering her that was unattainable. Some kids are just like that ...and I don't know why?
One of my favorite books is A Prayer for Owen Meany. The life of Owen Meany comes down to one defining moment ...his purpose in this life was to accomplish a very specific goal. He does. I think most of us are meant for many different things. Some of us are the teachers ...our lives are largely meant to shape, lead, guide and form others. Some of us are meant to learn. Most of us are a mix of the two, crossing paths with others, learning and teaching ...showing each other the way. I've thought so much about Phoebe since she died. Truth be told, I've always thought quite a bit about her. Her life was so terribly short ...for what purpose? Could God have swooped in, surrounding her with angels, rescuing her from her darkest moment? Of course ...so why didn't He? For starters, no one respects our free will more than God. He lets us make our own choices ...even bad ones. I wonder though too ...what He knew would come from this ...could come from this horror. Did Phoebe, like Owen Meany, have a very particular goal to accomplish? And if yes, then what?
I could be wrong, but I'm beginning to see something emerge from the haze. No person challenged me more, asked me more questions, posed more contrary thoughts, looked me in the eye and made me swear I believed what I said I believed, than my own flesh and blood ...my Phoebe. She would come at me with kindness, pity, condescension, anger, mockery ...challenging every single aspect of my faith, my faith as a Roman, not American, but Roman Catholic. Sometimes the assault was covert, silly ...at times hostile. I cannot think of one area she did examine. For sure it was her way of examining, discovering her own faith ...figuring out what she actually believed. Often too tired to battle, I would mumble something, struggle to find words to make myself sound intelligent, well reasoned. Weary, I would often respond with "I just accept it Phoebe, and the more I do just that, the more it makes sense to me, the more understanding I seem to have."
Faith is the promise of things hoped for, the promise of things unseen. This reality is hard to grasp, can't be pinned down. Phoebe entered a world that needed to make sense on an individual level. That world doesn't ascend to the sense of God ...to His ultimate plan for all of us. How confusing that must have been for her. So headstrong, she resisted the hand holding that could have ushered her in with a smoother transition. Confident she could handle all of it, she forgot to ask for help, wouldn't admit she needed some. I wonder now if those challenges with me about my faith, were in fact a round about way of just saying "hey mom, this doesn't make any sense to me, can you help me figure it all out." Makes me so sad to think that now ...her fortress was impenetrable for most, if not all, of us.
It seems selfish to write this, but her struggle, her challenge ...her death, the unbearable nature and fact of her death ...all of it, solidified my faith, made me lean into God even more. Rather than reject my faith as a Catholic, even in little ways making it more palatable for me, I've clung tighter. And the clinging isn't out of desperation, but out of a surrendered love for Christ. Phoebe broke me ...when no one else, nothing else could. She, my daughter, broke me. It is only in our brokenness that we can be made whole in Christ, in His love.
In no way do I want to romanticize suicide. Phoebe's suicide is NOT okay. It does NOT have any beautiful, sacrificial element to it. It was wrong ...the worst possible choice she could have made. In her impulsive act, she rejected God, she rejected us ...but ...she was in an extraordinarily dark place, and did not know what she was doing. I know that.
My point is ...that from the horror, the absurdity, the pain ...God makes things new. I've mentioned many times that above Phoebe when she died was a plaque. "All things work for the good of those who love Him." Romans 8. I saw that right away and clung to it, trusted Him from the very instant ...and I believe when we trust Him, He allows horrible things to work for the good. He allowed my daughter to challenge me, purify, solidify my faith ...stand firm with it in a culture that mocks His truth in every way possible, over and over. He took her life and made it an instrument to bring my soul closer to Him. And I still have a very, very long way to go. Always keeping my gaze fixed on my redeemer, I often see my girl skipping along beside me. Her challenge gives way to confirmation, her struggle gives way to assurance ...confidence ...certainty that He is all real, all loving ...all hers. When I stumble, she doesn't question ...she extends a hand, lifts me up ...and I see the familiar shaking of her hand "c'mon mom, let's go." Moving forward ...I'm moving forward with my favorite and eternal seventeen year old. No one could design such a way to bring me closer. Only God, the creator of all things ...could make "all things work for the good of those who love Him." ...even such a nightmare of losing Phoebe. I've said and thought many times the only thing that I want is to have Phoebe back. He has done that for me, for me, for now. Certainly not in the way I meant ...but in a way that is eternal.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
I believe God has blessed me deeply with a knowledge and assurance that Phoebe is indeed in Heaven. I hesitate to say that because I don't want to mislead or misconstrue what our faith teaches. Our culture, even those within the Church, tend to send people immediately to Heaven. But we know as Catholics that Christ taught us differently ...and most of us will go to Purgatory for a time, while others will end up in Hell. I know the notion of Hell isn't popular and that plenty suggest vehemently it does not exist ...but, it does. Not my opinion, just a fact. Christ spoke quite clearly about its existence and the reality of souls going there. I wrestled with where my Phoebe had gone ...I didn't assume anything, but certainly struggled with the not knowing ...But God is kind, and knows this mother's heart. He gave me peace.
So, we have attained our goal for our daughter. Why then, does that not settle the heart? It is a tough, tough thing to accept ...because I'm human, stubborn ...a mother. I want to call the shots. I never really could though with Phoebe. Always fiercely independent, there was a part of mothering her that was unattainable. Some kids are just like that ...and I don't know why?
One of my favorite books is A Prayer for Owen Meany. The life of Owen Meany comes down to one defining moment ...his purpose in this life was to accomplish a very specific goal. He does. I think most of us are meant for many different things. Some of us are the teachers ...our lives are largely meant to shape, lead, guide and form others. Some of us are meant to learn. Most of us are a mix of the two, crossing paths with others, learning and teaching ...showing each other the way. I've thought so much about Phoebe since she died. Truth be told, I've always thought quite a bit about her. Her life was so terribly short ...for what purpose? Could God have swooped in, surrounding her with angels, rescuing her from her darkest moment? Of course ...so why didn't He? For starters, no one respects our free will more than God. He lets us make our own choices ...even bad ones. I wonder though too ...what He knew would come from this ...could come from this horror. Did Phoebe, like Owen Meany, have a very particular goal to accomplish? And if yes, then what?
I could be wrong, but I'm beginning to see something emerge from the haze. No person challenged me more, asked me more questions, posed more contrary thoughts, looked me in the eye and made me swear I believed what I said I believed, than my own flesh and blood ...my Phoebe. She would come at me with kindness, pity, condescension, anger, mockery ...challenging every single aspect of my faith, my faith as a Roman, not American, but Roman Catholic. Sometimes the assault was covert, silly ...at times hostile. I cannot think of one area she did examine. For sure it was her way of examining, discovering her own faith ...figuring out what she actually believed. Often too tired to battle, I would mumble something, struggle to find words to make myself sound intelligent, well reasoned. Weary, I would often respond with "I just accept it Phoebe, and the more I do just that, the more it makes sense to me, the more understanding I seem to have."
Faith is the promise of things hoped for, the promise of things unseen. This reality is hard to grasp, can't be pinned down. Phoebe entered a world that needed to make sense on an individual level. That world doesn't ascend to the sense of God ...to His ultimate plan for all of us. How confusing that must have been for her. So headstrong, she resisted the hand holding that could have ushered her in with a smoother transition. Confident she could handle all of it, she forgot to ask for help, wouldn't admit she needed some. I wonder now if those challenges with me about my faith, were in fact a round about way of just saying "hey mom, this doesn't make any sense to me, can you help me figure it all out." Makes me so sad to think that now ...her fortress was impenetrable for most, if not all, of us.
It seems selfish to write this, but her struggle, her challenge ...her death, the unbearable nature and fact of her death ...all of it, solidified my faith, made me lean into God even more. Rather than reject my faith as a Catholic, even in little ways making it more palatable for me, I've clung tighter. And the clinging isn't out of desperation, but out of a surrendered love for Christ. Phoebe broke me ...when no one else, nothing else could. She, my daughter, broke me. It is only in our brokenness that we can be made whole in Christ, in His love.
In no way do I want to romanticize suicide. Phoebe's suicide is NOT okay. It does NOT have any beautiful, sacrificial element to it. It was wrong ...the worst possible choice she could have made. In her impulsive act, she rejected God, she rejected us ...but ...she was in an extraordinarily dark place, and did not know what she was doing. I know that.
My point is ...that from the horror, the absurdity, the pain ...God makes things new. I've mentioned many times that above Phoebe when she died was a plaque. "All things work for the good of those who love Him." Romans 8. I saw that right away and clung to it, trusted Him from the very instant ...and I believe when we trust Him, He allows horrible things to work for the good. He allowed my daughter to challenge me, purify, solidify my faith ...stand firm with it in a culture that mocks His truth in every way possible, over and over. He took her life and made it an instrument to bring my soul closer to Him. And I still have a very, very long way to go. Always keeping my gaze fixed on my redeemer, I often see my girl skipping along beside me. Her challenge gives way to confirmation, her struggle gives way to assurance ...confidence ...certainty that He is all real, all loving ...all hers. When I stumble, she doesn't question ...she extends a hand, lifts me up ...and I see the familiar shaking of her hand "c'mon mom, let's go." Moving forward ...I'm moving forward with my favorite and eternal seventeen year old. No one could design such a way to bring me closer. Only God, the creator of all things ...could make "all things work for the good of those who love Him." ...even such a nightmare of losing Phoebe. I've said and thought many times the only thing that I want is to have Phoebe back. He has done that for me, for me, for now. Certainly not in the way I meant ...but in a way that is eternal.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
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