Last year I threw myself headfirst into Advent. Generally, I love Advent, the march towards Bethlehem, the readying for Christ's birth, making room for Him in our souls, ridding ourselves of clutter, possessiveness. I followed the Blessed Mother through the trails of my backyard so many times, trusting she would lead me forward. And she did, walking the paths my daughter had treaded. Advent last year salvaged me in so many ways, on so many levels ...and Christmas arrived with new hope, joy ...a chance for peace and stillness in this mother's restless soul. As I remember, it was agony, each step ...hard to capture in words. I needed to make Christmas promising and new for my other children ...Phoebe's siblings. I needed to show them our life was wounded indeed, our family was deeply wounded ...but we were not broken. More than anything, I wanted them to trust God. I know as much as I wanted that for them ... they didn't. These trusting souls, listening to us, watching us put God at the Center ...were shattered.. Why would this God we believed in above all things, allow ...or even cause, Phoebe to end her life? A fair question ...they're still asking. I let them be, still do ...just trusting that God, who does not force us to love Him, is working on them in His way ...in their way. So it was more about seeing them smile on Christmas morning to assure me they still could. It was a Christmas I will always remember ...because Phoebe wasn't with us for the first time, but more ...because of all the graces that came that season, that day. It resonates still, the meeting of Joy's mother, the invitation to feed the animals at the stable Christmas night, the relics of the Holy Family. No human could possibly orchestrate that great journey of Advent for me last year. I don't ever expect it will come close to that again for me. I found peace then ...if only for a bit, but I remember how it was ...it stays with me still.
This year, Advent is different. It's more about being present with God ...with my kids, than it is about searching. This year it seems to me the peace will come in moments when I can be truly present, in the moment, giving thanks and praising God for every bit of it ...even the hardest of moments, the one's we most dislike. I try it in simple, obvious ways ...a demand from a child that seems unreasonable and yet they are convicted they deserve some thing, some opportunity beyond their years. Often this would prompt me to bite back, now I try to stay still and listen. I fail most times, but every once in a while I can really pause and be present with them in their own struggle and absorb that great earnest friction like a bath, a grace that permeates me, so I can see them as they grow right before me, I can see them become. It offers me a chance to be better than I was just a moment ago. That desire to be present also allows me to let go of people, places and things that clutter our lives, my life. And hopefully, allows others to let go of me too, if I clutter and disturb their lives
I've chased the perfect life most of my days, the one marked by chronic peace, with minimal disruption. In my simple mind I've thought if I was obedient and faithful ...a good girl, I could find a groove that would protect me and my family from serious struggle. I thought thriving meant avoiding struggle, hurt, broken hearts, loss. I thought in my simple mind I could stave off hardship ...if I just lived and prayed the right way, When you live that way, it's hard to be grateful most of the time because you tend to be disappointed a lot. Losing Phoebe has taught me to take the moments, let go of the fear ...to watch and listen far more than I act and talk ...with my kids anyway. And with others too. As I do this, with a lot of begging for God's guidance, I see so much more of who they are ...each one, and as that happens I appreciate the moments ...the tossing of the hair, the snarly attitude, the retelling of a playground antic, the unreasonable demand ...I begin to see all of it more and more as a gift, a great grace. Where before I saw grace only where I saw peace ...I see even more grace in the moments of struggle, where it costs me the most, takes more of me than I think I can give ...than I think I have ...is in fact God's most generous grace. And believe me, in a house with plenty of preteen and teenage girls, there are many, many moments of grace ...in a single minute.
How can I possibly be present with God, allow Him to be present with me, if I can't be in the moment with my own children? And how can I possibly appreciate and be united, physically united with Christ through the Eucharist, be present ...if in the moments of my day I fail to truly be in that moment. I'm realizing what a slow learner I am. I've lived with a true desire to know God for a long time now, but I'm a restless soul, unsettled and I think perhaps I'm one of His harder cases, so to speak.
Last Advent, my gaze fixed on the manger, the baby born to save us. Though my eyes darted about, looked down, wept ...my purpose was to make it to Bethlehem and offer back my baby girl ...give her to God freely and lovingly. I did that as best I could. But this year, I won't race ahead, I will be with the people around me. Where last year, I made that journey to catch a glimpse of her ...this year I'm set on catching a glimpse of the one's right around me, the one's I miss too often. Moments can't be taken back, earned back ...we all know that, but the death of a child proves that in a new way. I'll take as many moments with the living as I can, because each moment is only once, fleeting. I'll arrive at the manger on Christmas ...I'm sure of that, but my route is different this year. And I'm fairly certain I'll catch a glimpse of that feisty girl ...the one with the gorgeous eyes and floppy bun. And for now, that has to be enough.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
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