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.