Silence

It's late ...or early, depending on one's view.  The house is quiet in these wee hours.  Sleep eludes me and my mind races.  I've grown quiet these days ...about a lot of things.  A while ago I started writing a series titled "Mary's Sorrows."  There's more pieces not posted ...I get tired of what seems to be complaining, but tonight I'm gonna complain.  Mary had sorrows ...seven ...the prophecy of St. Simeon, the flight into Egypt, the losing of Jesus and then finding Him in the temple, meeting of Jesus while He carries His Cross, the Crucifixion, receiving His body from the Cross, and finally His burial.  Seven incredible sorrows.  So ...my initial intent was to reflect on her sorrows today as she looks upon our world and her Son's Church and sees the chaos, confusion and outright heresy that plagues us today.  But ...I got tired of it all.  So why now in the middle of the night, am I roused from bed to write some more.  Because it bothers me.  And mostly because it has cost me ...dearly ...and forever in this life.
All we've done, my husband and me, is try to raise our children to be authentically Catholic ...that's it.  We haven't raised them to have more money, prettier hair, faster legs, a better kick, quicker math facts ...than there neighbor, classmate or friend.  We've tried to instill in them a sense of the gifts and talents God gave to them along with a responsible awareness to use them to serve Him ...and Him alone.  We've tried to raise our kids for Heaven.  Really, that's not a very popular thing ...and as I go along, I'm realizing there's lots of people saying they do this too ...but I wonder ...are you really?  Am I really ...or am I just fooling myself?  Do I really want to take on the suffering in this life that's part of making  my way to the next?  Especially when the loudest message we seem to hear, at least in Boston, is that we're awesome Christians because we walked through the door.  Suffering ....who needs that, after all we're all going straight to Heaven.  The devil isn't real ...he's just a costume at halloween.  Sin isn't real. Authentic Catholicism, with rare exception,  isn't taught or preached in these parts ...and I 'm beginning to feel the fool.  Should I just not worry about it so much, take summers off, bring my coffee to Mass?  I'm beginning to wonder. 
Someone I know and trust told me recently that we're being watched by so many who see our witness.  I laughed.  Our witness ...of what?  Agony? I don't get to see him much ...years between visits.  He identified who keeps him abreast of our 'status' ...I barely know this person ...not in my circle.  And yet supposedly an authority on how we are doing.  But see, this person is real active in the Church ...with lots of other people who are real active in the Church too.  So there's lots of assessment of me and my family by all these real active people ...who've never actually had a conversation with any of us ....That makes me angry.  And it makes me quiet. ...except with a keyboard.  Now, I should be more charitable perhaps, but c'mon ...who has the right to speak of us, when they don't even know us.  Leave us alone, I say ...just leave us alone.  This is not easy, or simple ...this is real hardcore suffering.  It's not a job loss, a bad marriage, a difficult child, a low paying job, bad landscaping ...this ...is...the ...death...of ...my ...precious ....daughter.  Get it!  Can you tell I'm angry and tired of the nonsense.  Most especially distressed that anyone ...who doesn't even know us, would take it upon themselves to let others know how we're doing.  And yet, there are others, part of our day to day, who have yet to ask how our kids are doing ..or even how we're doing?  And that stuns me too. 
This is how we're doing ...we had a boat ...now we're shipwrecked ...without provisions.  My kids have lost their sister, my husband lost his best friend and daughter ...and I lost ...big.  Now, in all of this there is a supernatural view for sure, and believe me, it is our lifeline.  And in this too are the people who've stood by us and do ask, and do care about us and the kids ...despite their own very real struggles and sufferings.  They are simply there for us ...always, and I am enormously grateful.  I'm just getting tired of letting other people pretend they are, when in fact, they are not.
We're ten months into this hard, hard journey ...ten months, and I can tell you ...it has not gotten easier ...it has gotten harder ...much harder.  If I were on the other side, I would be looking for the signs of my friend getting over it, and taking them as indicators, assuring myself that my friend was coming along ...healing.  But I am not on that side, I am on this one ...in a world that has forgotten my girl already.  That's to be expected.  I believe and know that God is there ...and most times, it is only Him I know is there for me.  That's to be expected too.  But what really happens ...is we realize people are done, tired of a sad friend, tired of the loss.  What I hear is ...big deal ...get moving.  Honestly, I don't think that's what people are consciously processing and trying to convey ...but it rings out loud and clear.  And so we stop ...stop talking to the ones we know are expecting us to.  Some even say, "but you're burden is finished ...that's much easier."  Sorry, doesn't work that way ...pray and hope you never have to really come to your senses about that.
It was a hard day.  Phoebe's things still make there way into our everyday ...just like they always did.  Her shoes, t-shirts all still flow in the rhythm ...a gentle reminder of her place still here in this home, these hearts. I'm sinking and hanging on for dear life.  I am a bit stronger now, better able to fight the current, but the strength of the current doesn't relent.  It stays. I know this now from meeting so many other parent's who've lost a child, and also from working with the elderly.  Whenever we get a report on a patient we first hear the medical status and primary health concerns ...and always, if they have lost a child in the past, it is the next most important piece of  information we are given ...it never goes away, it shapes us. 
So back to the beginning of this post.  There is a supernatural battle playing out all around us.  Good vs. evil.  The Truth (being Christ and His Church) and the lie (being Satan and what poses as the church, but isn't).  This is a sorrow to me, and to plenty of others who just simply want to live out their faith without corruption.  I've never known the warm and fuzzy Jesus ...he's always eluded me.  I've just known my Savior and believed in the promise of meeting Him one day, face to face.  I think if I had known the warm and fuzzy "hey, man, what's the big deal" Jesus, I'd be gone ...long gone.  I'd never go to Church again.  The Jesus I know was beaten, spit on, and nailed to the Cross.  The Jesus I know had friends who fled from Him in His hour of greatest need.  The Jesus I know gave every last breath and drop of blood in Him to save me from my own sins.  I don't know the Jesus who high fives everyone and says "hey, you're going straight to Heaven just 'cause you say so."  I know the one who told Mary Magdalene to go and sin no more.  I know the Jesus who turned over tables in the temple when He saw God's sacred space being mocked.  I know the Jesus who told me that to follow Him would cost me ...and it has.  I know the Jesus who multiplied the loaves and fishes to feed thousands ...the real miracle, not the metaphor so often proposed in its place.  I know and believe in the Jesus who met my daughter when she died.  But I don't hear much about that Jesus around here ...and that bothers me ...because He's the one who founded the Church. So where is he?  Believe me, He is here, and thriving in some small pockets.  He's the one I want my kids to know and love and serve ...not an easy task around here.  We've been silenced in a very real way.  That's hard, but it's also a reason to lean even more into God, becoming even more trusting of Him as we remember how he was abandoned and marginalized ...because it didn't look pretty, didn't feel all warm and fuzzy.  He finished and he stayed ...and I can count on that, sometimes only that.  I want to stay with Him and finish too, and often we have to carefully discern if we are following Him, or a feeling of belonging, being part of the crowd.  It won't often feel good to follow Him. But it will ultimately bring peace ...even if only fleeting.

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