Eighteen white balloons with pink ribbon found the night sky as they were let go, heading upwards to greet Phoebe. A few had notes, messages, for her. They lifted quickly, out of view, up and away. Phoebe loved the night sky ...so we let the balloons go wishing her a happy birthday. It was the final moment of a day that belonged to her in so many ways.
This morning I walked through the doors of her school, her home away from home for three years. It had been a long time since I had seen the faces of her daily companions. It was hard for me to hold back tears, it was her building, her place. She had ownership there ...claimed space. Phoebe's yearbook...ready to be signed ...after their senior breakfast, happening the same day as her birthday. These girls ...quite extraordinary really, a small group, rallied and finished the year after the devastating loss of Phoebe. They made it, through the hurt and the pain ...they finished. Phoebe's class of 2011 ...have made me so proud of them.
Do you remember a few weeks ago, I wrote the story of the dogwood? Well, the class gift to Phoebe are two trees planted in the school yard ...dogwoods. Apparently the conversations revolving around what kind of trees arrived at dogwoods a few days before my post about the one that bloomed in my yard. This is where we see the veil between Heaven and Earth lifted, ever so slightly, inviting us in and revealing the closeness we share with our beloved deceased. The trees are lovely ...truly, truly lovely.
There is simply no way humans could show things in the way God does. Really, He is extraordinary. Who would think the humble dogwood would take such a prominent place in my life.
Later, at Phoebe's Mass, with Owen preparing to receive his First Holy Communion, I kneel and ask Phoebe to watch over Owen, help him appreciate the essence and power of the Eucharist ... to never lose sight of that. Father makes it known the feast day of St. Pascal. I listen close, a bit stunned ...this is the very saint I prayed to for Phoebe for a few years. His feast day is the same as Phoebe's birthday, and I knew that before, but had forgotten. My heart lifts, knowing it is yet another bridge between Heaven and Earth ...and a message that guides me to entrusting Owen to St. Pascal ...a lover of the Eucharist. The Church Triumphant, the Communion of Saints offer so much to us ...if we only pay attention.
These are graces, bridges, revealed through the simple act of trusting in God.
Trusting God has been a choice, deliberate and cognitive. This choice has not been based on emotions ...my own. If I left decisions to my emotions, I would, quite simply, reject God. I don't offer this as an example of extraordinary behavior on my part, but rather years of guidance by the faithful ...the truly faithful, over the years, offering and guiding me to understand that faith is not an emotion. Faith is a choice, a decision that costs us and demands a compliance ...an ascent ...to laws that defy the culture.
I know the gifts I have been given are extraordinary ...are beyond what any human deserves, and yet, I have received so very many that are beyond human capability.
My daughters birthday, eighteen, should be celebrated together. I should carry the cake to her, let her blow out 18 candles. But ...it is not to be. Yet, the blessings I have been given are eternal, breaking beyond the boundaries of this world, bridging me to Heaven. I am striving to head home to Heaven one day. Even though I can see these blessings, this grace that permeates my life, I forget ...and need to be reminded.
But on this day, Phoebe's day, I am reminded once again with the dogwood, that my cross will bloom ...like the cross, made from the dogwood, with suffering and injustice firmly affixed with nails and cruelty ...it blooms ...with hope and promise ...with eternity.
And on this day too, as I watch my son receive for first time, on this day, his godmothers birthday, his first communion ....I am reminded that indeed, the saint I had prayed to for Phoebe to understand the fullness and glory of the Eucharist, is the saint for Owen too. It is as if she has passed this saint on to her brother, so clearly, with love on this very special day.
I am grateful for this bittersweet day, still missing and wishing, but the veil being lifted ever so slightly, assuring me that Phoebe is well, living in the glory of her Creator ...her Redeemer ...the hope of our salvation.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
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