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.
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