Ahead

And so begins what I think of as a final walk, in many ways, with my beloved Phoebe.  Her schoolwork would have been mostly finished this week with the exception of one class that would have taken her to early May.  April would have been spent interning, already arranged at the local farm.  I can imagine the conversations buzzing around our kitchen ...the disbelief that high school was finally coming to an end ...The necessary passage of our culture into adulthood would have been accomplished.  There would be plenty of smiles, laughter, reflection ...gratitude.  Her drive to reach the end of this phase may have given her a glimpse of the vast horizon, the endless possibilities ahead of her ...and may have been so daunting once in view ...that she simply couldn't take it in ...manage it ...believe it was hers for the taking. 
So I'll walk these days for her.  Tears will stain my face for what is lost.  Her future here gone ...so is mine with her.  I looked forward to this time ....we would celebrate ...exhale.  Breathe deep and long.  So these days are not as I envisioned, planned.  They are different.
I will embrace the joy, thank God for the opportunity to remember ...the anticipation of her completion. Phoebe finished ...far ahead of time. 
I am alone now.  Walking these final days alone. 
Oh Phoebe, if only you would have stayed.  How I wish you had stayed.  So much ahead without you. 
But we will make it through, because somewhere, hidden in the rubble of grief is a treasure ...some gift.  Because that is how God always is ...and I will trust that in these coming weeks, carrying me through your birthday, graduation ...the finish line ....grace will flow with abundance.

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

Answered Prayer

Kelly delivered a baby girl!  The baby is responding well, which is great considering she is many weeks early.  Kelly made it through surgery ...which is a huge relief.  So so many people have been praying, and I thank everyone here for all the ones offered for her.  God is good and generous.
This baby girl has a great big group of cousins to join, but I'm sure her favorite will be her very own siblings.  She'll have a lifetime of love and laughter.
Family life is good ...pure and simple.  When its done right, it just keeps growing and spreading the joy and love to everyone around them.  I've been blessed by getting to be around them ...and so have my kids ...even Phoebe shared many memories with this crew ...
Sleep well Kelly!


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

Kelly's safe delivery

As I write this, the procedures to deliver Kelly's baby safely have begun.  Please pray hard for the safe delivery of her baby.  Please beg for Kelly's health and safety.  Thank you for all of them.  I know the power of prayer ...
I have listened to this song for the past twenty four hours, several times.  I can't shake it ...so I share it with you to listen and pray as so many of us mothers do ...for Kelly, her baby.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DNJBe5kZEjk

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

Prayer request

This Wednesday Kelly will deliver her baby. Deliveries are always a bit scary, but there is an unusual bit of concern with this one. Let's pray all goes well ...that both Kelly and baby are safe.
Entrust her to the protection of the Holy Family and St. Gerard.
Another friend of ours Will deliver her baby on Wednesday as well. Nothing unusual, no s special concerns ...but as those of us who've spent time In the delivery room know ...prayers always benefit.
What a gift to know of two new lives entering the world .... Pray they be safe.

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

Lies

When someone blogs they can track readership ...how many hits.  You don't see 'who' or the time ...just a general sense of how many people are perusing your words. But, if someone has a blog and they link yours on theirs ...I can see that.  I've learned some great things and went to places and spaces I would not have otherwise.  Last night I stumbled on one that was upsetting ...because it linked to mine saying it was all lies.  I found that really sad.  Honestly, it made me a bit dizzy, but as I gained balance ...it just leaves me sad and aware of the loneliness pervading the teenage culture.
I have found the act of writing in this format to be tremendously beneficial to me.  So if no one read ....I would likely still write ...even with the risks involved in being 'out there.'  I write for me, from my heart, from my perspective, often from a cluttered, chaotic, foggy mind.  I write to make sense, compartmentalize, work through ...to remember ...always to remember Phoebe.  But I don't write or share so much of Phoebe personally.  ...Or anyone else in my family.  This is my space ...to share my struggle to quite literally survive ...to keep living ...to keep wanting to live.  This is my space to look at black on white and see what emerges ....a lantern, a guidepost ....a street sign ....something that keeps me moving.  I am a strong woman ...raised by an extraordinarily intelligent and strong mother ....and mother to an extraordinarily intelligent and force of a girl.  Both my mother and my daughter are gone.  I had complicated relationships with both.  Complicated doesn't mean bad, unhealthy.  They both pushed me ....both always expected more of me than I ever thought I could give ...unrelenting.  They championed me like no one else ever could or can.  They are both gone.
I'm simply telling my story ...there are no lies here ...just the story of a mother fighting for her life ...in a life absent of one of the most extraordinary people, I believe God ever created ....my Phoebe.  Of course, all my other children are exceptional gifts ....of course the loss of them would be devastating ...as emptying of me as this one.  As a friend shared recently, it is difficult to paint a portrait of Phoebe for someone who never met her.  It sounds like the usual platitudes, compliments.  You could not know this girl, get a sense of her, without having met her and spent time around her.  Phoebe was life itself.  But Phoebe was a teenager, of course she had angst, struggles ...many she had overcome.  All teenagers do struggle to some extent as they come into their own, define who they are, make their way ...they're  homesteaders in a world that leaves very little land left to claim.  Phoebe's personal life is not mine to share ...to divulge her particular struggles ...well, would be wrong and unfair.  The portrait would be false because it was such a small part of who she was.  Most of the people who knew her, were part of her life, knew her for a long time ....since she was small. The small Phoebe went with the big.  If you only knew her in the big ...in only a few aspects of her life ...there is simply no way you knew her ...couldn't have.  Like a tiny tree she grew through the weeds, extended her branches, sank down  her roots ....she scrambled to the sunshine and soared above the other saplings in ways that broke the mold.  Her limbs are the ones that embraced the hurricane winds and danced, bending ...extending.
She welcomed the rain to shine her leaves as she kissed each drop.  She didn't hover,  hold back ...wait for the other saplings to make the first move ...show her the way.  Phoebe led.  Ask anyone who really knew her ...all of her.  Her final act was the most devastating ...the worst way to lead.  But it was not ...is not, her last word.  There is no honor in her suicide ...no glory, no heroism.  If I were to think only of her suicide ...and rest there ...it would be an assault, a false witness to her ...who she really is. 
So if someone is looking for a morbid exposure of the darkness that gripped Phoebe in the last moments ...and I mean moments as in seconds, minutes ...you will not find it here, from me.    If the lie I am accused of here is this ...this failure to expose something that was so deadly ...yet so brief ...as the essence of my girl ...then please don't read here.  Please don't make a mockery of my daughter's life. 
If the lie is that God is real ...merciful ...just ...the source of all life, joy, trustworthy ...the ONLY answer ..then please don't read here if what you seek to do is destroy and malign His goodness ...His healing hand, his grace, his power for a woman who's lost her daughter.  I'm trying to live ...to survive ...to mend the brokenness that came to me on Oct. 9, when my precious girl ended her life.  I will pray for those who do not know or believe in Him, accept Him ...and I will believe He will transform you ...heal your own hardness, fill you with His grace ... if you open your heart.  I will pray for that ...for you.  And I will ask Phoebe to as well.

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

Missing

I miss her, that's all. There is nothing I can do, no change I can make, no words that will end the missing. It is not a complicated missing ...it's pretty simple. I returned tonight after an errand. In the dark I could see the reflection of a car in my driveway. My heart smiled ...it always did when I saw that car parked there. Saturday night around nine. Yes, so often one or both would be here. Brigid and Deirdre ...Phoebe friends. Their visits were always simple ...easy ....right. For a moment tonight, before reality set in, before I saw it wasn't there car ...I relished in that moment...remembering one of the sweetest parts of Phoebe's life. I never had a good handle on her other friends. They were nice enough, but no one melded into our family way like these two. People can search for one dear friend their whole lives ...never finding. At a young age Phoebe had found her dear friends ...she had known that extraordinary gift. And I am glad for that ...but I miss her ....more than anyone could ever know ...I just plain miss her.

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

Choice

Eve believed the devil.  He tempted her and convinced her that if she ate from the tree ...she would have the knowledge and wisdom of God Himself.  Satan was very convincing ...and I'm sure velvety in his words ...seemingly kind ...only stating the obvious truth.  She bit the apple, shared it with her beloved, Adam ...and both became horrifically aware of their nakedness.  Adam and Eve made a choice ...to believe they could be like God.  Sounds like teenagers ...often believing they have more wisdom than all the adults before them.  But it was far more drastic than being a teenager, far mor devastating for all of mankind.  Their choice separated them from God ...they chose to step apart from Him.  Eve shared her sin ...and Adam accepted and followed.  They took all of us with them in that choice.  So now, we live in a fallen world. 
Often, the thought I could have been wiser than God, known better than Him ...found another way for Phoebe, sneaks in ...not in an obvious way, but cunningly and I find myself giving way to doubt, losing trust.  I know its natural to question, to grope for the answers and make sense out of something that lacks any sense at all.  I'm talking about something else, a boldness ...a cockiness that I can use my own intellect to out think God.  It starts in little ways ...just pushing aside the little things ...daily prayer, grace at meals ...what's the big deal really.  It grows though, and as it does the example gains power and persuasion.  When I could be simple and humble, I choose to be worldly wise.  I step away without even knowing.  Should I question God ...I can't help it ...that is natural for any of us who suffer something so radical.  It's when I INDULGE the questioning and let it continue rather than pray for patience, obedience ...silence.  When I forget to ask for His grace to empty me of ME and fill me with HIM ...I choose to step away ...I choose the apple ...I listen to the lie ....and begin to believe that I can be as wise as my Creator. 
The sin of Adam is written  on my heart, I bear the weight of leaning towards sin ...away from God.  I bear the weight of Phoebe's suicide ...an outrageous burden that pulls downward.  Beyond the law of gravity is the promise of salvation.  I have a choice ...I can be dragged down with my tears and sorrow, detesting the One who allowed her parting.  Or I can be purified and cleansed with the tears of trust and the solid wood of the Cross, without expecting answers and understanding.  These choices are very obvious to me ...and each day, sometimes many, many times throughout the day, I must choose.  I choose the Cross.  I choose to trust the Man who hung on that Cross ...seemingly defeated ...only to raise up on the third day.  It is not always an easy choice ...and for me, it is not an emotional choice ...it is simply a deliberate decision to trust, regardless of how I feel.  I am not extraordinary in any way.  In fact, I am quite ordinary ...with many faults the people around me are burdened with.  But I believe ...with all my heart, I believe that God loves me ...and loves Phoebe in an extraordinary way ...because I choose to.  If I choose to take a bite from the apple, I lose sight of His great love ...the greatest of all.  I don't want to lose sight.  I want my vision clear ...always.

Litany of Humility

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed,
Deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being loved...
From the desire of being extolled ...
From the desire of being honored ...
From the desire of being praised ...
From the desire of being preferred to others...
From the desire of being consulted ...
From the desire of being approved ...
From the fear of being humiliated ...
From the fear of being despised...
From the fear of suffering rebukes ...
From the fear of being calumniated ...
From the fear of being forgotten ...
From the fear of being ridiculed ...
From the fear of being wronged ...
From the fear of being suspected ...
That others may be loved more than I,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be esteemed more than I ...
That, in the opinion of the world,
others may increase and I may decrease ...
That others may be chosen and I set aside ...
That others may be praised and I unnoticed ...
That others may be preferred to me in everything...
That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should…


Read more: http://www.ewtn.com/devotionals/prayers/humility.htm#ixzz1HZLxqHLC

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

Messages

Today would have been my mother's 84th birthday.  She died when she was 76.  I've mentioned before she was not the type of person you ever imagine dying ...similar to her granddaughter...they simply had too much personality.  Happy Birthday Mom!  We sang to her and said a Divine Mercy Chaplet.  It's been 7 1/2 years since her passing.  They say it takes seven years to recover from a loss ...to complete the grieving process.  They also say it takes much longer ...a lifetime to get over the death of a child.  I'm coming to accept that, realize I will always ache ...tears will never be far off.  But I'm coming to realize other things too ...that as much as the tears are never far off ...neither is Phoebe, or my mother ...even my father.
If there was one thing I want people to get out of any of my writing it is that God is never far from you ...that He loves you beyond any imaginings, beyond any desire.  He holds us all so closely and tenderly, pressing us into His heart.  It is us, in our fallen nature, that loses sight of His care.  Believe me, I have strayed so far ...yesterday I yelled at Him for about twenty minutes while alone in the car.  I told Him all sorts of things ...and I didn't care how juvenile I sounded.  "That was a really stupid idea you had!  What were you thinking to take my girl from me?  You couldn't have found some other way, been a bit kinder, maybe more creative ...you are the Creator after all?  You want me to trust you ...well, you've proven yourself NOT trustworthy"  These things and more spilled from my heart.  He listened.  He knows.  Christ did not come to establish fairness ...He came to save, offer salvation ...and show us that the road to Heaven would be rocky and jagged, unsteady underfoot.  But I like those smooth, newly paved roads.  He hasn't put me on one of those.  But ...He always offers me a grace I could not have asked for ...they are always beyond my own creativity.  So, listen to  this story.
Last night, when the lights were out, and it had fallen quiet in this busy house, I began my goodnight chat with God.  I told Him Phoebe hadn't been around for a while ...she's gone missing again.  I thanked Him for all the times she's been around me.  I said goodnight to Phoebe and asked her to come visit me soon ...I told her that her classes would be winding down now ...just weeks now from graduation.  "Remember Phoebe how we'd talk that it would be here in an instant?  Wish I could go through this with you?  Wish you hadn't let go ...left me alone.  I just wish ...and wish ....Then I dreamed she had returned to me, just briefly ...She was sitting on a lush lawn and her face was bright.  All she said was "I'm so glad I can put my feet in the grass again.  I love the feeling of it between my toes."  I told her we would talk to her principle and ask if she could just finish the year and she had nodded, but as I raced through the school  I couldn't find her to ask.  Phoebe tilted her head with an expression of "Oh well."
"You can just take the GED, you're almost eighteen anyway." And she nodded yes.  She was just so content and relaxed.  I was so happy to see her ...and she knew I was ...and she was glad.  And then I woke up and quickly became absorbed in the tasks of the day.
This morning I was heading off to see my patients and someone pulled me outside the office.  "I have to tell you something."  She hadn't expected to see me.  When she woke in the morning she had an overwhelming sense of Phoebe.  "You know I never met her, but I saw her picture ...and it was her."  She just knew Phoebe was around her, with light coming from behind her ..."in the light, Phoebe is in the light."  She told me she probably sounded crazy, I shook my head "no."  "I thought, isn't this interesting, but then I got in my car ...and she was there.  I couldn't believe ...she was there ...and it was fun."  I nodded "Yes, Phoebe was fun ...she was a blast."  "She was,  wasn't she, I could tell...I got such a strong feeling about that ...and a strong feeling Phoebe wanted me to tell you she is here ...she isn't far away ...and then you walk through the door.  I can't believe this."  I told her I had prayed for Phoebe's presence last night ...and that this was the answer.  God had blessed us both.  "What a girl!"  Yes, she is quite a girl.  As I walked away, my heart lighter, I realized it was my  mother's birthday ...and that she probably had a hand in this gift.  Someone who never knew my girl, and could never have known the prayers offered in the dark just the night before ...brings me a message.  We are all called to holiness, and when we strive for that even in our imperfection ...God uses us to bring consolation and confirmation to each other.  Phoebe is still not obvious around me.  She may never be again.  But that doesn't mean she is not here. 
And that is so true of God ...just because He doesn't make us warm and fuzzy, does not mean He is not here.  He is ...always.

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

Inspiration

Yesterday, I was able to attend Michael O'Connors (Gentle Soul) funeral.  The last funeral for me was Phoebe's ...in the same church.  Micheal was a really simple man ...with very few things ...and few friends her on earth.  But I'm willing to bet he had many friends in Heaven.  I did not know him well at all, but as you may be able to tell, something has drawn me to him, opened my heart to this quiet, unassuming man.  Certainly, his reaching out with a generous heart after Phoebe's death resonated with me.  But there is something more.  His purity of intent.
After the funeral mass, there was a small gathering before his burial.  His simple ...but profoundly elegant, pine coffin would lay him to rest ...confirming the end of his life her on earth.  Something was being distributed in the vestibule ...a biography ...an autobiography.  It is perhaps the most beautiful autobiography I have ever read.  This simple man chronicled his journey, his ascent towards God.  He measured his life by his steps towards God ...that is all.  Surely, he had other events, happenings, highlights ...none captured here ...none part of his final story.  Only ...and I mean only, his steps towards God, including his struggle with sin.  I've crossed paths with Michael on my own walk towards God.  I am far less simple, far less unassuming ...my ego is gigantic compared to his.  I want what he had ...and even more, what I am sure he has now, for all eternity.
In this chaotic, upside down world, where God is so often mocked ...He is still the only way ...the only real measure of our life.  I want my autobiography to look like Micheal's  ...one step at a time ...with God always first.

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

Gentle Soul

A very gentle and kind soul passed away this past week.  Michael O'Connor was an unassuming man of little means but tremendous faith.  I met him a few years ago when I was first introduced to the Traditional Latin Mass.  He attended regularly when it was offered at Holy Trinity ...an elegant, treasure of a church. The diocese closed the parish of Holy Trinity, sadly, and in my humble opinion (shared by many) unnecessarily.  There is a whole bunch of information surrounding this that I won't go into.  Interestingly, however, the church was put on the market with Sotheby's recently by the archdiocese, listing it at $2.5 million ...a pathetic figure given the magnificence and location of the church.  The Vatican was contacted by many people concerned and well aware that this violated the proper care and sale of church property.  There are very specific steps and protocol that must be gone through before selling property that housed the actual body, blood, soul and divinity of Christ.  In this Church, Christ became truly present through the consecration.  It isn't something to be taken lightly.  Sadly, though, most Catholics don't believe in the True Presence, which makes preserving all things ordered to Him difficult at times.  Interestingly, the church was "unlisted" from the market.  Makes me wonder what Michael had to do with that change.  I believe he died just prior to it being taken off the market.  And I imagine he loved the church and all its glory.  For me, its an example of how simple souls are anchors of the faith and Truth.  You wouldn't have looked twice at this unassuming man ...and yet his faith was far more profound than some very learned and impeccably articulate "theologians" and "teachers" of the faith.  Tonight, my children were riveted by his story ...and his passing.  I'm quite sure his is a story they will remember and consider many times during their lives.
When the Mass moved to Mary Immaculate of Lourdes in Newton a few years ago, Michael couldn't attend.  The use of public transportation was complicated.  Though I didn't see him, I did often think of him.  When Phoebe died, he sent me a note and donation.  I was so moved ...still am. He really didn't have the means to offer anything to us, and yet he did.  His note was beautiful, so caring.  I wouldn't have thought he'd remember me.  Interesting that yesterday I wrote about the letters I need to write still.  He hadn't yet received one from me.  So I wrote one for him tonight and prayed for his soul, offering a Divine Mercy Chaplet. 
When a child dies and the family has been blessed with a network of friends ...the outpouring is huge.  The death is so public because children aren't supposed to die.  It's all good and right for that to happen ...we needed that, still do.  But when a simple, gentle soul dies ....without a family of his own, so few notice.  His life was seemingly small, but I imagine his welcome into eternity was majestic.  His faith was so strong and certain ...I can only imagine how well pleased God is with him and the work of his life.  Please pray for the repose of the soul of Michael O'Connor. 

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

Letters

Today is the Feast of St. Joseph.  He is very dear to me.  I had wanted to write something about Him, but I think this humble saint has silenced me for now.  He gently and quietly blessed me today.  He never demanded the spotlight ...but I love him very much.  I feel very close to St. Joseph and have prayed to him countless times for guidance and intercession.  I recommend you befriend this quiet, foster father of our Savior.  He was a fair and just worker ...he did not skimp on his responsibilities and so today he's made it clear to me that I still have some work to do.
There are baskets and bins filled with cards, letters, spiritual bouquets ...all read, but not really remembered.  Those early days were marked by numbness, an other worldly survival mode that kept feet moving.  Each day for several weeks, piles of envelopes came with the mail ...showing concern, care, sorrow.  I remember reading them ...but not the words.  I've gone through some already, sent out notes, but the bulk have yet to be done ...the bulk of thanking them for all the prayers, the masses, meals ...so many things.  I like to take care of things early ...this just eludes me.  People have said not to worry, to let it be ...everyone understands.  I believe that, people do understand.  But its not complete if I don't write notes and acknowledge what they are for ...who they are for ...why they came.  Each day we climb a little further out of the daze.  And part of that climb is to finish the letters ...the thanks.  Saying thank you, showing gratitude for the lifelines that held us and carried us ashore.
I would give most anything to not have those piles of letters ...to have my girl here with me.  Phoebe would want me to finish the letters ...it's only right.
Part of me wants to go back to those first days ...so much closer to her living ...when only days before she bounded up my stairs and changed my music.  I remember the heaviness ...the hovering of pain with sharp teeth leaving jagged open wounds all over.  The teeth have lost their edge ...at least most times.  The pain is still there, still hovering, but it doesn't consume all of me, choke my laughter, straighten my smile.  I know I'm that many days closer to seeing her again.
To write those letters means life is moving onward, wounds aren't as open and gaping.  That's good.  God heals us over time, makes it manageable so we can go on living.  I didn't think I would live, but I have ...through and by His grace.  It hasn't been easy ...taken just about every ounce of energy and effort to find it worth living.  I certainly have some good reasons for grabbing hold of this life.  My kids deserve that ...and it is clearly what God wants.  I trust Him ...His wisdom, his mercy ...even His gentle kindness.  I don't necessarily understand it ...or agree, but I have chosen to trust Him.  Many times, I don't feel like trusting Him ...my emotional life doesn't lead me there.  Choosing to trust God does not demand, require emotion.  It's an act of the will ...free will.  Every day I try to exercise my free will for God.  Doing that is giving the gift of free will back to Him.  I could dabble in some complicated philosophical points here ...but I am not scholarly enough to present it clearly.  Basically, God gave us free will ... a genuine and freely given gift.  He want us to choose Him by our own will ...to ascend towards Him with each action of our lives.  I can tell you ...I've had plenty of actions that haven't headed me in that direction.  but it is where my heart and mind desire to go.  Even in the loss of Phoebe I choose God.  Sure I have questions, my faith has been rattled ...but it is in the shaking that I notice the weak spots, where reinforcement is needed.  No suffering lacks growth ...if we allow it.  Suffering transforms ...just look at Christ on the Cross ...and then the Resurrection.  They do not exist separately ...they need each other.  And we need suffering in our lives, and believe me I would like it to be tamer ...less vicious.
So I know this, and yet Lent eludes me this season.  I find myself unable to utter words for Him ...I babble, strive to be clear, make sense out of my heart and mind ....and it is only jibberish I offer Him.  I generally like Lent ...the doing with less, eating less, praying more, giving more ...this year I am flat.   I see my friend and tell her this ...this struggle to sacrifice.  I can't do it.  Even though I want to I can't.  I cry.  "I can't now, there is nothing I can do."  Her eyes are wet and she holds me close ...this woman who knew my daughter so well, often had her in her own home, on family vacations ...she knows the absurdity of what has happened.  This child, my child ...how could this be Phoebe?  How?  "You've given enough for now, you've given your daughter" she says.  And I am glad she says that ...but truly, can it ever be enough?  Can we ever give enough of ourselves back to God ...even when the cost is so high?  I don't know.  I don't think we can ...but maybe if we just try to choose Him in all things, at all times, we can conform our free will to His will for us.  And then maybe we can, I can begin to truly live for God.
I go back to these letters, these piles and piles of letters and prayers ...all so beautiful and soothing.  The promises of Christ, redemption ....salvation ...Heaven.  And isn't that what Lent is ...Christ redeemed us on the Cross ....bringing us salvation and the promise of Heaven.  I'll walk my way to Calvary by writing letters that remind me of all He's done for us ...for me ...for Phoebe.  And maybe, if I can join my will to His will for me I may be worthy of kneeling at the foot of the Cross.  I pray for that. 
St. Joseph, terror of demons, pray for us!

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

St. Patrick

Happy St. Patrick's Day!  I do have some Irish blood running through these veins, but truth be told I have no attachment to it.  The English blood takes up more space in me.  But ...I do love corned beef and cabbage ...and Irish bread.  I gave it my all today starting with green pancakes, Irish music, festive hats, a slight imperfect brogue from my tongue ...and of course, the boiled dinner.  I give it my all ...and most moments it isn't hard, the smile, the fun, making the little things enjoyable ...but often, just below the smile are the tears ready to sprout.  Every first, be it holiday, holy day, birthday, change of the clocks, opening the windows to the first mild air, the promise of spring as crocuses poke their way through soil ...all of them remind me that she is not here.  It won't always be so ...that's what they tell me anyway, those who've walked this lonely, sad road before me, before us.  But for now, every time I notice she is not here ...I ask why ...how ...what, what stole her from me? where is my oldest daughter?  I cannot stop asking that question, though the hope of an answer has faded considerably.  Time will answer those questions ...when my time here ends.  For years I've prayed for patience ...not one of my gifts ...and now I have no choice but to wait, forced patience, forced.  Not such a bad thing I guess against the backdrop of eternity ...but for this mother,  certainly a tough thing.
Of course, there are always blessings along the way, bumping into friends, old, new, long ago ...I had that chance today.  When I was hired for the nursing job I have now, I went through orientation with a women that for some reason seemed familiar to me.  I had never seen her before, but something tugged at me even while we sat in different parts of the room.  As meetings, speakers changed and we were shifted around we found ourselves sitting together and assumed a natural conversation that seemed to just pick up where it had left off.  Her first comment to me was that she thought our place of employment should hire me as a fashion consultant.  I thanked her, but inside I was hysterically laughing.  I can barely make it out of my room without revision from my daughters.  Most of the time you would think I was trying to wear men's pants, pink sparkly high heeled boots and a snow hat, given the reprimands I receive for my poor, pathetic fashion sense.  Along with that, I am not a fashion person and have never been accused of such.  This day, I just got lucky!  So that's how our friendship started.  Turns out we share a mutual friend ...who had asked me to pray for this friend I had never met who was in need of a job.  So I did!  Only to find myself seated  with her, sharing our faith, our faith, our stories ...our common friend.  I had prayed for this lovely woman to find a job ...and she did. I saw her today, had the chance to chat for a few minutes.  We met about six weeks before Phoebe died, she never met her ...but she knows me before and after.  I like it when we can talk about God and His plan ...and the struggle to accept and follow it.  Bumping into someone like that is like stopping at the gas station and refueling.  I feel richer, fuller, safer ...more stable and certain of the world after an encounter like that. Later, buzzing through the grocery store I saw an old high school friend ...another chance to fill up, rekindle something important from a long time ago.  She had met Phoebe, but hadn't seen her since she was probably 8 yrs old.  Life moves quick, taking us on lots of different trails.  Both of these women, saw me first, did double takes and embraced me ...came right to me.  Those are nice moments for me ...very soothing.
Other times, I see someone I know, someone who knew my girl pretty well and they hold their head low, look away.  I know they've seen me ...feel awkward.  But that hurts ...makes me feel invisible ...makes me question their genuine care for me, my family, my daughter.  It doesn't make me angry ...but certainly sad.  No one has to say anything ...a simple smile, or wave ..."hope things are well" is enough.  Remember that when you see someone who's lost someone close ...don't turn away, pretend they aren't there.  Every encounter is a link to the present ...a hope that keeps us living, clinging to life ...remember that.  I had two gifts today, two ...what a blessing. I woke up asking St. Patrick to toss me a favor today, and he did ...and I feel blessed.  I wonder how Phoebe spent this day ....I wonder if she missed me ...probably not, considering where she is.  But I sure did miss her ...I know she would have forbid me from wearing my big Irish hat to work ...but I think she giggled today and saw the smiles it brought to the folks I encountered. 
Happy St. Patrick's day!

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

This Grief

This grief thing ...has a life all its own.  No one can command the journey it will take you on.  Sometimes I feel so 'normal.'  Other times, I feel sunken, hollow ...and no one would know.  There are some things I see in myself, changes I see, feel ...that I know are the mark of grief.  Look around, listen to the tragedy of people's lives all around us.  Look at Japan, the devastation ...the loss ...the suffering.  I could pass someone in the street and not know the havoc ripping through them ...how they are struggling to survive ...breath.  That amazes me, how little we really know of each other.  Sadly for this world, suffering and struggle are part of the human condition ...then why does it feel so foreign ...why do we instinctively resist any that comes our way?  Unite it to Christ, offer it back ...I know this, and He takes it ...but I am struggling to make sense.  Why so much devastation? 
There are times when those answers are clear to me ...not now.  I know there are answers, in the tapestry of His creation it all makes sense, has a place ...but I cannot see how the threads of loss, today, weave anything beautiful.  I don't feel especially sad today, just a constant tug, pressing and pulling ...part of my everyday.  Impatience really is what travels through me ...for peace, for feeling settled, resolved ...a sense of who I am ...okay.
I had a nice walk with a friend the other day ...I don't usually get that kind of time with her.  We've known each other a long time and it is rare, as we race around with our kids, that we have any real extended time.  So that long time in the woods, by the sea was an unexpected pleasure.  I've become more and more aware that so many of my friends suffer the loss of Phoebe too ...and their families, all the girls ...making their way through their own grief and missing of this girl who dazzled so many.  My friend shared the loss of losing me, watching a part of me die ...gone.  I hadn't thought of that ...at least as something my friends would experience, the hardship of watching someones eyes run empty, vacant.  Phoebe took my sparkle with her.
And then I think of Lent ...a time to die to Him, give it all over.  I want to do that.  Am I so stubborn, resistant to His ways, following His will, that the only way for me to die to Him is to suffer the loss, the death of my daughter?  I believe in the promise of the Resurrection.  I believe in eternal salvation ...and I believe I will be with Phoebe again ... I do!  I just never knew the price of it all, the ruggedness, the scraped knees ...and the emptiness ...I just never knew.  I don't like this walk to Calvary one bit ...not one.  In fact, I have no interest in making this trip ...but I know it is good and right.  If I focus on every moment as a gift, the chance to breath fresh air, live anew ...then maybe, just maybe I can keep following.  But if I look around at all the suffering, the sorrow, the hardship and pain and try to make sense ...I will fall, turn away.  Give me the moments to cling to, each a step closer.  Let me grab on to the Truth of Christ and know He loves me and holds me ...and will never let me go.  And all will be well.

"For blest is the wood through which justice comes about."  Wisdom 14:7

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

A Song

When Phoebe was about eight a very popular song by Andrea Boccelli  and Celine Dion was heard quite often on the radio ... A Mother's Prayer.  This was the first time we recognized the particular beauty of Phoebe's singing voice.  With such seriousness she would sing that song to us, to me ...and she always did such a beautiful job.   Later, she would compose her own songs ...and very reluctantly she began to play them in our living room for all to hear.  Her voice was rich and soulful, her songs, more of a blues or folk ...they were powerful, meaningful songs that could tug at your heart.  She would pound the piano keys and often times stun us with her command ...untrained in voice and piano ...she had a natural talent.  A friend recently saw a girl, biking with a backpack and skateboard strapped to her back ...She said "She did so much ...and what about American Idol ...she could have definitely done that."  Phoebe had spent two weeks in Utah with Outward Bound.  That following winter her friends from her trip contacted her.  "Hey, why didn't we see you trying out for Idol."  We learned then she had entertained them around the campfire at night with her music ...and they had loved it.  So did we!  Her room is filled with papers scratched with lyrics ...she could play with words, capture emotion ...and set it to music.

Truly, the funnest part for me as her mom was when she would sing with her sisters.  They would sit side by side and play away ...and sing.  Phoebe encouraged and taught them her way.  A gift she left with them.  Then there were the times when they would sing the songs for The Sound of Music, and Phoebe would be the Mother Superior ...it was so, so funny.  The laughing would ring through my house ...and I knew, in those moments, that all would be well.  It doesn't feel that way today.  I woke with a very heavy missing ...a need for her.  I want her to be playing the piano and singing, giving all of us orders ...I can't tell you how much I want that.  Just to touch her, see her ...hear her voice ...to just listen to her voice ...I don't care what she would say ...just to listen.  So I remember that song she used to sing, and remember her young voice ...and I wonder if ten years ago she sang that song for me as a gift for now.  God's time is so different then our own.  If it soothes me, I will take it as a gift, thinking maybe it will settle this sad, broken heart ...and believing that prayer was answered, and that my girl is safe.

A Mother's Prayer
I pray you'll be my eyes
And watch her where she goes
And help her to be wise
Help me to let go

Every mother's prayer
Every child knows
Lead her to a place
Guide her with your grace
To a place where she'll be safe

I pray she finds your light
And holds it in her heart
As darkness falls each night
Remind her where you are

Every mother's prayer
Every child knows
Need to find a place
Guide her with your grace
Give her faith so she'll be safe

Lead her to a place
Guide her with your grace
To a place where she'll be safe

Hey Pheebs ...thank you!

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

Play and pray

Something is returning ...ever so slightly, but it has started to emerge, take its place in my life. I know I will never be the same ...nor do I want to be.  God has made me different, chiseled away at my soul, taken from me so that He could give more ....later, but at times, even now.  I'm beginning to play again.  I've seen glimpses of it recently, but today I responded to a text in broken French.  We bantered a bit, trying to outdo each other ...until, I switched to Spanish ...and did an excellent job botching what I was trying to say.  I finally returned to English.  This was all while I was picking up a gift for one of Owen's friends.  He was annoyed I was using my phone until I told him who it was ...then it was fine.
After, I went into a shoe store and tried on a pair of shoes.  He kept asking me if we could just go.  "Let's just go ...can we please go?"  I was there all of five minutes.  I tried on one pair.  "Owen, how do these look?"  The response "Can we just go now?"  as he looks at the ceiling, the door.  I put my own shoes back on, say nothing.  He looks down.  "Those look good mom, just buy those, then we can go."  "You like these, the ones on my feet right now."  "Yeah, I think those are the ones you should buy, they look good ...just buy 'em, then we can go."  "Owen, these are the shoes I wore in here."  Big laugh ...scrunched up nose ..."Can we pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaase just go?"
My kids always ask me why I never buy anything new for myself.  Well?
It really was a simple five to ten minutes of my day where I really just played ...between texting in languages I have no command over ...and delighting in the 'boyness' of my seven year old.  In all I've read, it says one day you will notice a shift ...maybe today was the day.  You begin to shift away from focusing on the death of your lost child, and allow the vision, the memory of their life to break through.  For me, I think its more than that ...it is more than a memory.  Every person is a body and a soul.  The body dies, but the soul will live on for all eternity.  Only part of the person dies ...the physical, the 'grab hold of' part.  But the essence of that person remains.  Phoebe is with me, I have no doubt.  I tell her all the time, I just want to hold her, see her.  She knows.  God knows.  I could play today because I know she would have laughed about Owen and the shoes ...and she would have grabbed my phone to assess the damage done to two foreign languages by her mother.  She would have rolled her eyes at me, smirked and told me I shouldn't mess with things I know so little about.  But instead, she was already there ...no need to share.  Maybe this all sounds delusional ...that's okay.  When I tell these things to other parents missing a child ....they get it.  Yes, it is their life too with their lost child ...not so lost anymore.  Doesn't mean the missing is less, the pain gone ...it just means we find new ways to be with the one's we've loved and lost.  And in finding those new ways ...we can once again begin to play ...even if only for five minutes.

Please remember three things in prayer if you would be so kind.
1.  Pray for the safe delivery of Kelly's baby (see sidebar) to be born in late March ...and for Kelly's own safety and health.  Everything at the moment is fine. She is being closely monitored and under the care of an excellent team. 

2.  Pray for a mother who has an extraordinary struggle underway and ahead of her with some of her children.  This woman's faith has kept me afloat in some of my darkest moments ...Her trust in God stuns me ..and leads me.  She needs MUCH grace to persevere ...and she will, but please pray for her.

3.  Pray for friends who are dealing with a job loss.  That they may find the work necessary to keep things going at home.  They are a wonderful family ...and their prayers too, have kept us afloat, along with their joyful friendship, openness and warmth ...which they share with EVERYONE! 

I assure you ...all of these people will return the favor of your prayers for them.  And I will pray for you too.  Thank you!  The power of prayer is greater than any force on earth ...I know that ...because my family would not be where we are today without all the praying on our behalf ...Prayer changes and saves lives!  Prayers can bring Heaven on Earth.

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

Calvary

Today begins the long walk to the hill where Christ was crucified.  It is never a walk I like ...but there is a part of me that loves this painful journey.  It works my soul, calls me to give it all over to Him and shoulder a tiny piece of the burden of that cross.  There is no way I am worthy enough to help Him ...yet, He beckons me ...even the unworthy, the sinners ...me.
Accepting Christ's love for Phoebe to be greater than my own has been a struggle for my heart ...not so much my head, just that emotion keeper that beats tears in my chest.  But Christ does love Phoebe more than I ever could ...and He has her now ...she has Him.
The other morning I was talking with Owen, my seven year old, about Lent.  Always those jokes "I'll give up going to school, making my bed, eating vegetables," but then the real questions.  I love seven.  Still so open, he really considered Christ dying for Phoebe ...thought of Christ's pain and suffering in the garden, taking all that pain on for all of us ...the pain of sin, sorrow, loss.  Christ felt ALL of it at once.  Imagine.  The pain I felt for so long ....I thought it would kill me ...really deplete all the life out of me ...cause a heart attack ...anything.  And I am one person with one sorrow.  Christ took everyone's on ....still does.  For a moment Owen got that.  I watched his eyes as he remembered the day his big sister died ...left him, thought about how hurt he felt, how he cried and cried, begged for one of my nurse friends to fix her, bring her back.  And then he thought about Jesus taking that on for him ....and all the rest of us.  His eyes big .."wow, Jesus is super nice!"  Yes, Owen, Jesus is super nice.
By His grace, I hope to take my place at the foot of the Cross on Good Friday, so I may share in the glory of His Resurrection.
Tonight, gathered at Mass, blessed by the ashes that remind us from where we come ...and where we shall return, we were surrounded by friends.  It was a struggle to get out the door, head to Mass more than thirty minutes away.  I kept quiet about who else might be there ...because I know with the best effort, sometimes we just can't do what we hope to.  Friends made a long journey, far away from the convenience of their local parish ...on a school night, with kids in tow.  My girls, looked around and saw some of their most special friends ...long-time, never will I leave you friends ...lifetime friends.  Here we gathered, children, mothers, dads, young men ...beginning Lent on Phoebe's fifth month anniversary, with the Mass offered for her.  A beautiful Ash Wednesday really.  Always, when I ask God how I will keep her part of me ...He answers in extraordinary ways.  My Lent begins with Phoebe by my side, looping her arm through mine ...walking with me to Calvary.  I am a blessed woman!

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

Prayer

One of the greatest gifts I've received during these dark days has been the spiritual adoption of my children.  Every Friday for several years now, I've gathered with a group of women and our children to pray the Rosary.  Friendship that forms from such a group, a prayer group, walking through each others' challenges, successes, hopes and worries forges a silent, unbreakable bond.  When Phoebe died, I had only spoken to one of these women that day ...I called her from the hospital as I said goodbye to my daughter ...my moans and cries were hers too ...her two oldest were two of Phoebe's three best friends.  Those moments of shock took hold of us.  The next day, after making arrangements with the funeral home, the funeral Mass already planned, we headed off to finish Phoebe's work of visiting a college in Maine.
Mom, Dad and the kids made the long ride to see the place that had tugged Phoebe's heartstrings ...
Knowing we would have to plan the gathering after the burial, I had put it in God's hands, trusting He would provide ....but I was overwhelmed at the thought of all that effort I would need to muster.  As I sat on the edge of the sea, looking out at the place that would have likely been home to Phoebe next year, I thought of all my friends ...the incredible women in my life, my Rosary group, and so many others who have enriched my life beyond words.  I thought of them and how they had loved Phoebe and how they must ache too ...for me and my family, but also because they had lost someone they loved as well.  I was keenly aware that without God ...and without this gift of friendship ...I would not make it through ...I would die from the pain, the searing, jagged pain that ravaged my body taking root.  Shortly after this, this friend, Kathleen called me, letting me know everything had been taken care of and we were not to worry about anything.  I was stunned as she began to tell me who she was gathered with ...my Rosary group, and all these other friends who have guided me, buoyed me for so long ...all together, preparing and planning ...easing at least the temporal demands for us.
Just before Christmas this Rosary group gave me another gift I had not expected ...each had taken on one of my children to pray for ...to guard and protect.  Again, I was stunned ...even still, because the enormity of that for a mom trying to gain Heaven for her children simply cannot be measured in worldly terms.  I pray for my friends children ...we all do.  But to have each one singled out and paired with a woman of such strong, abiding faith brings it to a new level. 
As Lent begins, and we are called to a deeper prayer life, greater sacrifice, fervent living of the Sacraments of Penance and Eucharist,  I wonder if each of us could take on at least one very specific child of a friend to pray for.  Each child is unique, finding challenging times, all of them, at different points in their life.  If we have a good friend who worries most about one particular child, why don't we prayerfully adopt that child this Lent.  I know it will be an enormous gift, and relief, not to mention source of grace for everyone.  Sometimes us moms grow weary ...even frightened for one child in particular at a given time.  Imagine if we could ease that worry for each other ...Imagine if we offered a tapestry of prayer, so beautifully and intricately woven to present before Christ on the Cross, binding us all together in our love for each others' children.  Don't even ask, just offer it, let a friend know.  It has given me such hope ...and rest, knowing that each of my children is prayed for by someone in particular.  Doesn't mean I pray any less, but it sure feels like my own prayers are fortified, richer ...
I've taken on three lovely young women ...all of them beautiful, spirited, talented and fiercely independent.  Each one extraordinarily lovely ...yet not fully aware of their own power and vulnerability, their ignorance and innocence.  I love these girls, and I've asked the most fiercely independent and powerful girl I've ever known to assist me ...my own darling Phoebe.  Together we are on a mission ...to elegantly, and faithfully usher them into adulthood with peace and purity. 
I can do this because its been done for me ...and I am eternally grateful.

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

Lent

Ash Wednesday marks Phoebe's fifth month since her death.  I hate writing those words ...I really do ...her death.
But in them, for this month, I find an enormous grace too ...because it falls on such an important, holy day.  Perhaps it suggests Phoebe will walk with me through this forty days of darkness.  She certainly walked with me to Bethlehem, a difficult journey for me, but so worth the effort.  In the end, when I arrived at the stable the blessings ran full and rich.  I could not have come closer to Bethlehem ...really.
If you've read here for a while, you might remember that story ...the prayer, the begging for my heart to fill with joy so I might offer back my daughter with great love and generosity to the baby in the manger ...our infant Savior.  I remember meeting Joy ...real Joy.  I remember the invitation to feed the animals at the farm down the road on Christmas Day ...the stable, among the smells, the hay.  I remember the gentle knocking at my door around the time the shepherds would have been in the hills, unsuspecting of the angels coming to them in just a short time.  I remember the gift of what I thought was just the cloak of St. Joseph ...only to discover the relic too of Blessed Mother's mantle ...the one I've begged her for years to wrap around my children.  And I remember standing at Phoebe's grave on Christmas Day with my beloved friend, crying with such missing, still feeling so enormously blessed ...only to be told by this women of such faith ...that too, along with the cloak ...the mantle ...was the relic, the authentic, tiny piece of Our Lord's crib ...I remember the enormity of that blessing ...that grace and gift ...on Christmas Day.  I don't believe a person on earth could come any closer to Bethlehem than I did.  He heard me, He answered my prayers ...and blessed me so abundantly.  And I remember Christmas night, sharing it all with Kathy, Katie and Angela ...three more who loved and adored my girl ...but love and adore the Savior more.  The glistening eyes stared in rapt attention as they walked with me to that stable ...because that gift ...that enormous grace ...was not just for me, but for all of us, each soul that knew Phoebe ...and loved her from when she was so small, watched her grow, struggle ...and then begin to soar and elegantly spread her wings ...and then die by the most impulsive act known to man.  Each of us has been pierced by the sword of loving Phoebe, and so though all these gifts came to me ...they are for all of us ...to know He is present, listening, tendering His care to all of us.
Oh, to live in that knowing every moment ...but this is not to be.  Lent is our time to give back ...this is a time about His death, His brutal crucifixion ...our killing of Our Lord by our own sin, our own ugliness.  Lent is our time to rise above the temptations that weigh us down, make us ugly, separate us from God.
His grace is there at the ready, but we must ask for it ...we must invite Him in ...with genuine desire, openness.  We must admit who we are, our own sin.  What does this mean?  It means we have to own up ...call sin ...sin.  If we live against God's law ...if we choose the secular world over God's world ...if we say things "aren't really a big deal" or " we don't really have to believe that, if we don't feel that way." I know I have a lot of owning up to do for Him to be able to mold me as He wants.  I'm a fighter, a survivor ...so I don't give up easily ...even my own sin, I hang on pretty tight. But He knows us, and He gives us forty days ...to unite, share just the tiniest sliver of His own suffering.  Forty days ...sounds too long for me this year, but I will strive to give it my all.  I have my own interior devotions, sacrifices I will offer.  And there are some exterior too...
Already He blesses ...a phone call to let me know a Mass is being offered for Phoebe on Ash Wednesday at 7PM ...the only time my whole family could make it.  Imagine ...already, He takes the sacrifice and blesses.  If only I could lean into Him and trust Him always ..each moment and breath of life ...then I would be in Heaven with my girl.  Mass is as close as I can get now ...and He brings me there, ushering me into the holiest season of the liturgical year with His tender care and mercy.
A big thank you to that special person who requested that Mass for her ...

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

Baby days are gone

Today our youngest turned 5!  Our oldest turns 21 at the end of June.  I've been at these baby days for a long, long time.  When you're 4 you sort of straddle babyhood ...but when you're 5 ...there's no question ...no more baby.  It's funny to see the changes that take place around birthdays.  This little girl is spirited as they come.  Sleep is not something she's ever been fond of ...or even needed.  Even as an infant she wouldn't fall asleep when nursed ...who ever heard of that?  Perpetual motion, conversation ...mess making.  On our way to our flight home, she engaged the entire crew from a Southwest Airlines flight as we sat on the shuttle.  Told them everyone's name, age, which parent they looked most like ...told them she and her mom look like twins because we both have curly hair.  Chatted the whole time, giving them details that embarrassed her sisters, but dazzled the crew, waving to them as they got off at their terminal.  I think she gave a spring to their step that day.  I'm sad to see my baby days over ...but I'm tired, and so afraid of losing another that I am also grateful for those tender years I had ...and for the bit of rest this time brings.
Mary Claire is young enough to have that total innocence about her ...and assurance that Phoebe is still with us ...just "inbisible" as she says.  When I cry,even quietly alone, she is the first one there ...rushing to me, hugging me telling me that Phoebe is still here ..."you just can't see her ...she's inbisible.  She's in her room doing her work."  She'll sneak away and come back with a framed picture of her big sister.  Puts right in my face, so I can't even see it and shushes everyone around us.  "Shh,  Mom's sad" she'll say.  She prays for her all the time at night prayer.  She prays for about forty things until someone, exasperated, says "okay, you're all done."  But in those prayers is always "and I pway that Phoebe is having a weally, weally fun time in heaven."  She's the only one who talks about her as if she were still here ...she's such a part of her life.  Still so young that spiritual life is equal to the physical ...a beautiful thing to have around me.
I'm glad for that ...and thankful, because it gives me a finer lens to change my often cloudy view.
So today as we gathered 'round our table to celebrate this big birthday, we did so without our Phoebe.  It was our first birthday without her.  And ...it was okay.  We always remember Phoebe at meals, making her a part of us still.  I didn't choke up, cry, withdraw ...I just focused on the moment and knew that somehow, someway, she was with us ... enjoying her family in a much fuller, robust way than she ever could before.  I was worried about how I would manage this kick-off to birthday season in our house.  We begin in March, another in April, Phoebe's in May, Stephen and Stephen in June, Owen July, and finally Olivia, myself and Hannah in August.  We're pretty tired of cake, ice cream and presents by the time Hannah's rolls around ...poor Hannah!
Our little girl, five years old, sat at the head of the table and thanked us both for her birthday, blowing us kisses, slurping her ice cream.  This little girl who would drop everything and race outside, screaming "Phoebe's home!" whenever she pulled in the driveway ...racing into her arms, asking questions, relaying the day.  She rallies me ...teaches me, and leads me to a brighter day that keeps Phoebe alive with us ...always.
The gift of this little girl, the tender age she is, offers me the hand I need to keep my eyes on Heaven and my heart full of hope and promise ....God's design ...perfect ...eternally perfect.

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

Reality

Lent comes late this year.  Ash Wednesday happens to fall on the five month anniversary of Phoebe's death.  It still punches me to write those words.  Phoebe was not to die ...if you knew her, you know just what I mean.  If you didn't know her ...well, you missed out on someone truly awesome ... a gem, not without faults, but a real person, not defined by anyone, living fully every moment.  But ...Phoebe did die, and that is a reality I struggle with ...because the simple truth is that I miss her, and I looked forward to our time ahead. 
Today I sat on our patio out back.  My friend and I bundled up and out with our tea we sat in the setting afternoon.  Meg is one of my anchors ...knows me as well as I let anyone know me.  Our time together is never long enough ..and circumstances of our lives have made it tough to find any real length of time together.  So we snatch moments when we can.  She's a good listener ...always has been.  Meg loved/loves Phoebe.  She was one of the few people Phoebe would allow to hug her.  She would scrunch up her nose and lean into this dear friend of mine, acting reluctant, but softening the moment Megs arms took hold of her.  It was Meg I was with when Phoebe died.  As I write now, I wonder if that was so because of anyone ...the only other woman who would know the imprint of hugging Phoebe as I do ...who held her as I did, is Meg.  I have no doubt that Phoebe's soul went into the arms of the Blessed Mother the instant she died ...no doubt.  She too knows the imprint of hugging Phoebe.
So often, over the years, I've thought how much this dear friend of mine reminds me of the Blessed Mother.  No woman will ever come close to the mother of Christ ...but as close as one can ...I imagine it is Meg.  She will be embarrassed that I write this about her ...wave it off, deny the comparison.  Phoebe had just turned five when Meg and I met through a mutual friend.  Our bond was instant ...and she has loved each of my kids far more than I ever imagined a friend could.  She simply loved Phoebe.   And Phoebe adored Meg, was always glad when she was coming, when she called. 
So as I sat on our patio in the cool air, setting sun, I could remember this girl with someone who could remember her to just as I do.  The reality of Phoebe ...a one in million girl.  Phoebe was spectacular in many ways ...smart, incredibly talented, fiercely independent and wildly adventurous ...had I been a side liner I would have been a fan, a follower.  As her mother ... she kept me running, fast.  We ran hard for many years, and most especially in her high school years.  She pushed limits, boundaries.  At home she would argue that homeschooling was stifling, limiting, while in school she argued with teachers that compulsory education was a manipulation of the individual's mind ...impractical, people should be educated in less imposing ways (homeschooling?).  On both fronts she made reasoned, well thought arguments, points that made us think, pause, consider.  Her mind worked fast, she had no time for nonsense, busy work ....life was to be lived, not bogged down by imposed constraints with no lasting value ...no real objective other than to manage groups of students.  She wrestled with these ideas, made claims ...many times with great clarity.  Wise beyond her years, but young enough to be ignorant of knowledge that comes from experience ....time, age.  She had begun to settle in, find the groove of life, accept certain things were part of life that would pass soon enough.  She had matured.  A lovely young lady ....we shared more and more moments of peace, laughter.  I was so proud of her for her conviction, her passion ...poof ...she was gone.  We had weathered the rough waters, made it through ...why would God take her then.  Why wouldn't He let us enjoy the years ahead?  That will never make any sense in this life.  But, it does for the next ...eternity.  Not a popular notion today ...but as I said yesterday, suffering is necessary to be in union with God.  I have no choice but to trust Him and His choice to allow this in my life.  The benefit of walking side by side with Phoebe as she continued to grow would have been wonderful ...all I could hope for.  As great as that would have been ..my time with her in eternity will be even greater ... and forever.   Does that make sense?  It's what our faith teaches ...that God loves us more than anyone else ever could and knows what is best for us ...each of us.  If this is what He sees as what is best for me ...then I will trust Him ...as hard as that is.  A simple reality ...God knows best.  Phoebe knows that now, for sure.  She asked that question over and over ...and it was answered.  I wish there could have been another way .... 
Meg walked through all of this with me ...right to the bitter moments of losing Phoebe and beyond.  It is bizarre almost, to see how much a part of those final moments Meg was ...how providentially designed our moments together were.  And more moments today, on our patio, remembering this girl she knew so well, and loving her so unconditionally.  But more, Meg loving God so much that she watches her friend, me, in pain, and reminds me of the days ahead, the days of reunion, promise, Phoebe ...and assures me that whatever I suffer now will shrivel on that last day.  Meg loves me enough to watch me suffer and believe that it is a gift, as hard and awful as it is ...with her eyes of faith, she knows the promise.  She knew Phoebe ..through and through ...loved her feisty spirit ...Meg knows what I'm missing ...the gravity ...the girl ....and she assures me it is all worth it. 
We all need friends with this kind of faith ...I've been blessed with quite a few.  They all take there place as God leads them ....today Meg took her place as my compass...
I hope I can be as good a friend ...pointing always towards Christ ...always towards the promise of eternity.

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

Exposure

Lots of people suggested a vacation ...escape, just for a bit.  What I thought would be a flight away from the storm turned out to be head on into depths I hadn't yet gone.  A new layer.  How many are there?  How deep will I have to go?  I like control, so I want answers, time frames and limits that will promise me something solid, assurance this struggle will end. It will end, when my life here does.  How long must I wait? It will take different turns, assume new perspectives as time goes on, but it will linger. It will be my suffering for a long, long time.
Suffering, what a horrible word really, for two reasons.  First, human nature makes us want to run away, far away from anything that causes discomfort, pain. Suffering is necessary to be truly in union with God ...it has a redemptive nature, each pain weaving us more into Him, part of His tapestry really.  We know this and yet we push away as much as possible from the edges that make us keenly aware of the greatest suffering we endure.  This first reason admits our rejection, or at least desire to reject, a gift of unity God has offered to us.  Why would we ever reject something that comes from God?  Surely there is plenty of 'suffering' in the world that does not come from God, that we bring on ourselves ...and most of us are pretty good at that.  But the suffering that comes from God, is allowed by God, offered to us by Him ....we need to embrace. Yes, I hear those words and believe them ...but to live them is quite another thing ...a new way of living ...a way of living in the Creator, living His ways. But the comfort of the world tells us we shouldn't have to endure the discomfort ...surely, there must be a way out. Truthfully, union with God will be marked by suffering ...sometimes extraordinarily heavy.
The second reason why I find the word suffering to be horrible is because in truth, no human suffering can ever ...ever, come close to the suffering Christ assumed for our salvation. We should have separate words (and maybe we do, some scholars may know) for Christ's redemptive suffering for mankind and human struggles here on earth.  To say I suffer ....and that Christ suffered ...just doesn't seem right.  My suffering ...any human suffering really, pales so in comparison to how He suffered for us ...all of us.  And His suffering continues as we persist in our rejection of Him in our culture, our homes and our own hearts.  I don't want Christ to suffer more for me ...I want to ease what He has shouldered for my eternal salvation.  I really do ...and yet, I see my shadow dash from the burden, run from the pain, hiding and whining that it is far too hard.
And it is ...far, far too hard to bear as a human ...alone, trying to make my own way.  It will crush me ...as it should ...if I live apart from God.  And what keeps me apart from God?  Pride, a belief that I am stronger than I am, that weakness is not part of who I am.  There's lots of things that keep me from Him.  Free will ...that gift given to each of us requires we invite God into our lives.  He has given us that right, that ability to keep him at arms lengths, dabbling ... till we get it just right.  I struggle with that, want to present myself perfectly to God, figure it all out before I approach.  Over and over I toss this in my mind, away from the routines of daily life ...a break, and all I can think about is being perfect enough, cleaned up enough to stand before Him with a perfectly edited script pleasing to Him. I have so much work to do to get there.  My head knows this is not God's way ...but my heart struggles.  I feel rejected, after all, my beloved daughter is dead ...He must not like me much to do that, never mind love me.  This is my heart, speaking the words of a broken hearted mother.  ,My thoughts are not meant for God, yet He hears me ...answers in the way He knows I will hear.  Just like He does with me, His voice echoes when least expected.  I pull a book from my bag, Interior Freedom, Rev. Jacques Philippe, given to me by a dear friend.  I read these words ...these words, as if being answered directly ...

The person God loves with the tenderness of a Father, the person he wants to touch and transform with his love,  is not the person we'd have liked to be or ought to be.  It's the person we are.  God doesn't love "ideal persons" or "virtual beings."  He loves actual, real people. He is  not interested in saintly figures in stained glass windows, but in us sinners.
Further on ...
What often blocks the action of God's grace in our lives is less our sins or failings than it is our failure to accept our own weakness - all those rejections, conscious or not, of what we really are or of our real situation.  To "set grace free" in our lives, and paving the way for deep and spectacular changes, it sometimes would be enough to say simply "yes" - a "yes" inspired by trust in God to aspects of our lives we've been rejecting.  We refuse to admit we have this defect, that weak point, were marked by this event, fell into that sin.  And so we block the Holy Spirit's action, since he can only affect our reality to the extent we accept it ourselves.  The Holy Spirit never acts unless we freely cooperate.  We must accept ourselves just as we are, if the Holy Spirit is to change us for the better.
(pp 32 - 33)
And so, in His whisper, my vision clears, if only a bit.  Yes, I say to myself, I failed Phoebe, I failed God.  I chose the wrong way at times.  Yes, there were times I held back the love that could have flowed freely ...because of frustration, pride, ignorance ...maybe meanness ..maybe.  Yes, there were times my words must have hurt ...and yes, I could have hugged more, held longer.  These things I must recognize, not in despair, but in letting go, giving them back to God ...to the only one who can heal me and make me whole.
I yearn to be in union with my girl ...again, just as we had been.  I will only get there if I stare at who I really am ...how I really am.  This is why the great sacrament of confession is such a gift ...because it exposes us to ourselves if we are properly disposed ...it exposes our weakness, our sin so that we may be purified through Him. 
Accepting myself in weakness, in failings (we all have them), is the path to accepting this gift of loss.  Accepting my lack of trust in Him, my doubt, my anger ...will give way to greater trust, assurance ...peace, joy.  I have had moments of all these good things ...long moments, a taste of His promise.  And still, I fall back to my weakness ...still, they are my touchstone, rather than Him.  This is what must change.  Christ, the one who suffered for me, must be my touchstone, my assurance.  I want that, I beg for that.  I thought I was there, but I see now I have far to go ...but if I invite Him in, He will carry me ...lead me onward, ever closer to His heart.

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