As I stood over my daughter, stroking her lifeless body, someone tapped me. "Your friend is here, she'd like to see you." said the nurse. Who? Who had come to join these four weeping souls. Of course. I made my way out the door, through the corridor, weaving myself between stretchers, the comings and goings of a busy emergency room. I could see her, hand over her mouth, the brokenness of her, the loss she carried. She had come for me, for us, for Phoebe. She saw me and her hands left her face and reached for me ...the sorrow on her face reflected my own. Just hours ago, we had delighted in being together on the soccer field. Laughing and planning with the littles scurrying about our feet. Just hours before this horrible reunion, we had relished in our time together. Phoebe was not quite five when we met ...and it was as if we had always known each other. Both of us took on nursing school and the demands of our time left barely any to be together. We had spent Friday night together as our girls went to club and then had the immediate morning open wide. Our friendship shares the ups and downs, the uncertainties, the challenge of raising children for God in this time and place. She had listened to me so many times ...and on that day, without a reason to be worried, without a reason to think twice, I told her, on that soccer field, as our daughters' teams played each other ...that if I had to stand before God at this very moment and account for my mothering of Phoebe, I could say with great confidence and certainty that I had done my very best, given it my all, had done all that I could for her. Why was I prompted to say that very thing ...at that very time ...while unknown to me, my daughter was dying? Was that a grace, a gift from Heaven ...was that, indeed, my accounting before God for my daughter? I think so. And I will tell you, the assurance from that, the gift of that, has been balm to my soul. Meg witnessed this, heard these words come from me.
So now we stood side by side over her ...this girl, gone from us ...my accounting done. Deep breath in, "Goodbye my lovely." We walk past the somber faces, wet eyes and make our way back to the"family room." I know I will find my son and daughter there, waiting. Another broken heart is there too! Lisa, had come. She just came. No words, just the tears that stream down the beautiful face and the sobs that heave from her. Another deep breath, another moan moves through me. These women, my women, confirm this is true. There is no haze here, no sense of dreaming, this is real ...they are here, were there to usher me into reality ...to confirm that Phoebe is gone.
In my dreams, I turn and run from the soccer field. This isn't right, something is wrong, why am I saying these things now ...where is she ...where is Phoebe? I can make it in time ...make things right ...like a mother should.
But while I thought she was home, enjoying the quiet, playing her music, singing her songs ...she was dying from the inside out. Her view of her world, our world went askew in moments. How could I have possibly known? How could I have possibly known I would be accounting for her?
Is there some small comfort here? Yes there is. Had I not said those words aloud, how could I say them now without doubt. Because they were freely and honestly given ...I know they are true. They are the bench I can sit on when I am weary and full of doubt. They are the rest needed before I continue on. Meg is my witness.
Months later, I still race back to that moment, when I uttered those words ...not with bravado, but a knowledge that though I am imperfect, could have done some things better, I had indeed done my best.
These women, two dear friends, listened to me, walked with me for years now, as we've raised our children, reaching beyond the typical, reaching for God.
And now they wait, patiently, as I rebuild, restore, refresh ...retreat. That is the gift of friendship ...a sisterhood that silently, patiently waits. God gifts us, blesses us with each other ...I will never forget those moments. And there are others, the people I love, the women I've been blessed with. They have kept me alive, loved me in my broken imperfection. They too mourn, weep at the loss of my child, a child they loved too. Thank you, dear friends.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Carry On!
Last night, at the memorial service, a song was played. There were plenty of letters read, poems recited, reflections ...all of them beautiful, personal, meant for the lost, but meaningful to everyone present. We understand the depth, the horror, the questioning. So everything shared pulled on my heart, but there was one that felt as though Phoebe stared me in the face and sang to me. It is a song called Carry On, My Sweet Survivor by Peter Yarrow (of Peter, Paul and Mary). I couldn't find it on You Tube ...if anyone else can, please share it.
This song in particular carried her voice. On the long ride there, my husband and I spoke all about her. He felt like she was in the back seat, right there with us. I don't get those kind of feelings. I wish I did. I do get fleeting moments when she comes to make a point ...and then she's off. Phoebe had remarked many times about my strength ...inherited and taught to me by my own mother ...a survivor in her own right. I had often remarked that my mother would continue her ascent of Mt. Everest, even after losing all her limbs. She simply went on ...always, until her final battle with cancer ended her life over seven years ago. I know Phoebe believed I could survive this ...and she was right, but it is a survival with much cost and extraordinary pain. Phoebe, in many ways, was my companion. The oldest daughter often becomes just that in a large family. There's lots to do and their chance to grow and offer their very best is readily available. She knew a lot about her mother, was a keen observer of me ...freely sharing my strengths and weaknesses. Phoebe was strong too, but she lost a battle in moments. How will I ever reconcile that ...weave that into my life. The very fabric of her missing.
For a long time Phoebe understood what her parents were about. We were after integrity, dignity, virtue and most especially faith in God. We work at that, fall short a lot, but it is our compass. Trying to find a better place for our family, establishing a firm foundation that would hold the family for generations. We grew up in trying times when the culture flipped on our own parents. The messages were confusing, the direction uncertain ...it was a tough time to keep a family healthy and whole. We wanted to forge ahead and do that ...bring about a change that would be certain, as least as much as it could be. Our vision is fifty years out. Certainly, our vision is in the moment for our kids and their care. But the plan, like a dream home, or a thousand acre farm, takes time to build, nurture. We know what we are doing will be realized over time, not immediately. I don't know if that makes any sense, probably doesn't if you already come from a family that was able ( a tremendous blessing and grace) to establish that ahead of you. For those of us who didn't benefit from that ...you know the life of a pioneer, a homesteader. We trust that God will lead us ...and He has in many, many ways. But it is not an easy road.
Phoebe knew that, lived it in many ways. While the world around her ebbed and flowed between opinions, ideas, beliefs, she came home to something that held firm. We talked a lot ...about where we are heading. She knew it didn't usually mesh with the worldly consensus. We know plenty of others on the same path, so she knew she was in good company, but still, out there in world ...a world that likes to have its way ....she was alone ...too often. Well liked, respected, admired ...she held her own.
I'm sad, a bit lost, somewhat jaded ...and yes, afraid without her. God knows this and I believe Phoebe knows this. So, I believe it was this song she sang to me last night, with her full, rich, folksy voice ...a voice too powerful for even her.
Carry On, My Sweet Survivor
You have asked me why the days fly by so quickly
And why each one feels no different from the last
And you say that you are fearful for the future
And you have grown suspicious of the past
And you wonder if the dreams we shared together
Have abandoned us or we abandoned them
And you ask about and try to find the meaning
So that you can feel that closeness once again.
Carry on my sweet survivor, Carry on, my lonely friend
Don't give up on the dream and don't you let it end
Carry on, my sweet survivor, though you know that something's gone
For everything that matters, carry on
You remember when you felt each person mattered
When we all had to care or all was lost
But now you see believers turn to cynics
And you wonder was the struggle worth the cost
Then you see someone too young to know the difference
And the veil of isolation in their eyes
And inside you know you've got to leave them something
Or the hope for something better slowly dies.
Carry on my sweet survivor, Carry on, my lonely friend
Don't give up on the dream and don't you let it end
Carry on, my sweet survivor, though you know that something's gone
For everything that matters, carry on
Carry on, my sweet survivor, You've carried it so long
So it may come again, Carry on ...Carry on ...Carry on.
There are phrases in this song that are phrases of our home, our life together. The dream we have, the one we've lived and work for is still worth the fight. The world may tell us we did it all wrong ...should of just gone along with the culture ...but Phoebe knew, and knows now, in this world there is a mighty price paid for staying close to the Truth.
Carry on, what else can I do, but carry on. It makes me happy to think of her singing these words to me, and it gives me a reason ...a desire to do just that ...carry on. Thanks Pheebs!
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
This song in particular carried her voice. On the long ride there, my husband and I spoke all about her. He felt like she was in the back seat, right there with us. I don't get those kind of feelings. I wish I did. I do get fleeting moments when she comes to make a point ...and then she's off. Phoebe had remarked many times about my strength ...inherited and taught to me by my own mother ...a survivor in her own right. I had often remarked that my mother would continue her ascent of Mt. Everest, even after losing all her limbs. She simply went on ...always, until her final battle with cancer ended her life over seven years ago. I know Phoebe believed I could survive this ...and she was right, but it is a survival with much cost and extraordinary pain. Phoebe, in many ways, was my companion. The oldest daughter often becomes just that in a large family. There's lots to do and their chance to grow and offer their very best is readily available. She knew a lot about her mother, was a keen observer of me ...freely sharing my strengths and weaknesses. Phoebe was strong too, but she lost a battle in moments. How will I ever reconcile that ...weave that into my life. The very fabric of her missing.
For a long time Phoebe understood what her parents were about. We were after integrity, dignity, virtue and most especially faith in God. We work at that, fall short a lot, but it is our compass. Trying to find a better place for our family, establishing a firm foundation that would hold the family for generations. We grew up in trying times when the culture flipped on our own parents. The messages were confusing, the direction uncertain ...it was a tough time to keep a family healthy and whole. We wanted to forge ahead and do that ...bring about a change that would be certain, as least as much as it could be. Our vision is fifty years out. Certainly, our vision is in the moment for our kids and their care. But the plan, like a dream home, or a thousand acre farm, takes time to build, nurture. We know what we are doing will be realized over time, not immediately. I don't know if that makes any sense, probably doesn't if you already come from a family that was able ( a tremendous blessing and grace) to establish that ahead of you. For those of us who didn't benefit from that ...you know the life of a pioneer, a homesteader. We trust that God will lead us ...and He has in many, many ways. But it is not an easy road.
Phoebe knew that, lived it in many ways. While the world around her ebbed and flowed between opinions, ideas, beliefs, she came home to something that held firm. We talked a lot ...about where we are heading. She knew it didn't usually mesh with the worldly consensus. We know plenty of others on the same path, so she knew she was in good company, but still, out there in world ...a world that likes to have its way ....she was alone ...too often. Well liked, respected, admired ...she held her own.
I'm sad, a bit lost, somewhat jaded ...and yes, afraid without her. God knows this and I believe Phoebe knows this. So, I believe it was this song she sang to me last night, with her full, rich, folksy voice ...a voice too powerful for even her.
Carry On, My Sweet Survivor
You have asked me why the days fly by so quickly
And why each one feels no different from the last
And you say that you are fearful for the future
And you have grown suspicious of the past
And you wonder if the dreams we shared together
Have abandoned us or we abandoned them
And you ask about and try to find the meaning
So that you can feel that closeness once again.
Carry on my sweet survivor, Carry on, my lonely friend
Don't give up on the dream and don't you let it end
Carry on, my sweet survivor, though you know that something's gone
For everything that matters, carry on
You remember when you felt each person mattered
When we all had to care or all was lost
But now you see believers turn to cynics
And you wonder was the struggle worth the cost
Then you see someone too young to know the difference
And the veil of isolation in their eyes
And inside you know you've got to leave them something
Or the hope for something better slowly dies.
Carry on my sweet survivor, Carry on, my lonely friend
Don't give up on the dream and don't you let it end
Carry on, my sweet survivor, though you know that something's gone
For everything that matters, carry on
Carry on, my sweet survivor, You've carried it so long
So it may come again, Carry on ...Carry on ...Carry on.
There are phrases in this song that are phrases of our home, our life together. The dream we have, the one we've lived and work for is still worth the fight. The world may tell us we did it all wrong ...should of just gone along with the culture ...but Phoebe knew, and knows now, in this world there is a mighty price paid for staying close to the Truth.
Carry on, what else can I do, but carry on. It makes me happy to think of her singing these words to me, and it gives me a reason ...a desire to do just that ...carry on. Thanks Pheebs!
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Three months
Today marks Phoebe's three month anniversary. Life, unbelievably has gone on...different for sure, but life ..being alive, continues. Today is the feast of Our Lord's Baptism ...an invitation to a new life ...a new walk with Christ, adopting His ways ....which are often far different from those of the world. If we really consider that, believe it, our lives should change. We have to ask ourselves "am I really following Christ in ALL His ways, or just the ways that work for me?" It would be easy now for me, us, to find excuses why I could reject or dilute my acceptance of His teachings. Why not? He's offered us a new way of life ...but one I don't like. I don't really think it fits for me right now ...a bit too hard, bitter. But if I really want to follow Him, I have no choice but to ascend to what He has offered, accept, even embrace. That's not to say that God "willed" Phoebe's death ...I certainly don't believe that. It happened. Do I still accept the promises of baptism ...my obligation?. Yes, I do.
Tonight there was a memorial service hosted by Samaritans for families and friends who've lost someone to suicide. There we sat listening to letters, poems, songs written to the beloved. Just your average person sits there ...you'd never think suicide had affected their life ...they just look too ...normal. Suicide shouldn't touch the lives of 'normal' people ...there is something eerie about it. Guess what? It does affect the lives of far too many 'normal' people. Many of them sharing the evening with us were as blindsided as we were by the death of their child, husband, father, friend, brother. No one suspected, saw signs. Before Phoebe died this way, I really believed there were always real telltale signs. Even in nursing school we learned the list of things to look for. We assume, at least I did, that those lists were legitimate because they made it into textbooks, web pages. Certainly, they are legitimate signs for many ...but for many more ...they are not. I'm learning this as I meet people down this road I'm forced to travel. Most were not hidden away, sleeping hours away in a room, unshowered, uncaring about their self care. Most were not giving away possessions, experiencing a sudden sense of peace and happiness after weeks, months of depression, only to realize it was because they had made a choice to die. Most had no history, at least diagnosed, of depression or brain disorder. Most had never spoken of or attempted suicide. So then, why all the "data" that gives us a heads up. I'm no scientist, I don't conduct longitudinal studies ...but I am certain of one thing. We live in a culture of death ...and it is sinister and alluring at the same time ...and it has taken far too many lives. But it is allusive this culture of death.
Pope John Paul II spoke quite eloquently and insistently on this. Sanctity of human life in this culture is fading quickly. Protecting the life of the unborn is made to be a silly, archaic, ignorant pastime for old fogies and mean people. In fact, we have a generation of children growing up recognizing that if babies are disposable, then so are they. Think about that! Protecting families has been flushed away as we have redefined family ...even marriage, to be whatever one wants it to be. Pets are children for many! Our culture has ceased to recognize the difference between caring for a dog and caring for a child. They are not the same ...and never will be regardless of what the media tells us. Where do our children fit in here? What kind of a future to they have to look to. Protecting God is close to obtaining you an insanely stupid label. Look in the media at who is talking about Christianity as being 'dangerous' to the culture. God is dangerous?
So back to the baptism of Christ. He asks us to follow Him, not the world. The world is described above. We can cave and accept the culture of death and lead more and more children astray into the hopelessness that comes with that culture....or we can follow Him in the culture of life at the risk of being labeled a lunatic, and promise our children something greater than what the media tells them and sells them.
Phoebe is not alone ...more and more kids are choosing death. Outside of our support groups, involved in loss, I've heard of eight other teens suicides since October. Eight! Two of them come from homes similar to ours. We raise our kids in the faith ...and the world tells them God is disposable. This is a full on battle. I for one will not water down the truth. I'm following Christ ...in all my imperfection. I want all of our kids to have a fair chance at life ...I want the lies, deception to end. I want our kids to value family and parents. I want the world ...media, teachers, adults, to stop telling them they don't have to listen to their parents. I want other parents to stop telling our kids they don't have to listen to their parents. I want the priests to stand up and take back the culture ...defend the faith, speak the truth. I want people to wake up to what is happening around us. Enough is enough! Our kids are worth fighting for ...aren't they? Or maybe making sure people like us is more important. I don't think many people "liked" John the Baptist ...but it was him who shouted out Christ's coming ...and it was him God chose to Baptize His only son, Jesus. I think I want to be on the baptists team. I think Phoebe wants me to be on his team too!
St. John the Baptist, pray for us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Tonight there was a memorial service hosted by Samaritans for families and friends who've lost someone to suicide. There we sat listening to letters, poems, songs written to the beloved. Just your average person sits there ...you'd never think suicide had affected their life ...they just look too ...normal. Suicide shouldn't touch the lives of 'normal' people ...there is something eerie about it. Guess what? It does affect the lives of far too many 'normal' people. Many of them sharing the evening with us were as blindsided as we were by the death of their child, husband, father, friend, brother. No one suspected, saw signs. Before Phoebe died this way, I really believed there were always real telltale signs. Even in nursing school we learned the list of things to look for. We assume, at least I did, that those lists were legitimate because they made it into textbooks, web pages. Certainly, they are legitimate signs for many ...but for many more ...they are not. I'm learning this as I meet people down this road I'm forced to travel. Most were not hidden away, sleeping hours away in a room, unshowered, uncaring about their self care. Most were not giving away possessions, experiencing a sudden sense of peace and happiness after weeks, months of depression, only to realize it was because they had made a choice to die. Most had no history, at least diagnosed, of depression or brain disorder. Most had never spoken of or attempted suicide. So then, why all the "data" that gives us a heads up. I'm no scientist, I don't conduct longitudinal studies ...but I am certain of one thing. We live in a culture of death ...and it is sinister and alluring at the same time ...and it has taken far too many lives. But it is allusive this culture of death.
Pope John Paul II spoke quite eloquently and insistently on this. Sanctity of human life in this culture is fading quickly. Protecting the life of the unborn is made to be a silly, archaic, ignorant pastime for old fogies and mean people. In fact, we have a generation of children growing up recognizing that if babies are disposable, then so are they. Think about that! Protecting families has been flushed away as we have redefined family ...even marriage, to be whatever one wants it to be. Pets are children for many! Our culture has ceased to recognize the difference between caring for a dog and caring for a child. They are not the same ...and never will be regardless of what the media tells us. Where do our children fit in here? What kind of a future to they have to look to. Protecting God is close to obtaining you an insanely stupid label. Look in the media at who is talking about Christianity as being 'dangerous' to the culture. God is dangerous?
So back to the baptism of Christ. He asks us to follow Him, not the world. The world is described above. We can cave and accept the culture of death and lead more and more children astray into the hopelessness that comes with that culture....or we can follow Him in the culture of life at the risk of being labeled a lunatic, and promise our children something greater than what the media tells them and sells them.
Phoebe is not alone ...more and more kids are choosing death. Outside of our support groups, involved in loss, I've heard of eight other teens suicides since October. Eight! Two of them come from homes similar to ours. We raise our kids in the faith ...and the world tells them God is disposable. This is a full on battle. I for one will not water down the truth. I'm following Christ ...in all my imperfection. I want all of our kids to have a fair chance at life ...I want the lies, deception to end. I want our kids to value family and parents. I want the world ...media, teachers, adults, to stop telling them they don't have to listen to their parents. I want other parents to stop telling our kids they don't have to listen to their parents. I want the priests to stand up and take back the culture ...defend the faith, speak the truth. I want people to wake up to what is happening around us. Enough is enough! Our kids are worth fighting for ...aren't they? Or maybe making sure people like us is more important. I don't think many people "liked" John the Baptist ...but it was him who shouted out Christ's coming ...and it was him God chose to Baptize His only son, Jesus. I think I want to be on the baptists team. I think Phoebe wants me to be on his team too!
St. John the Baptist, pray for us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Trio
I like the number three. My favorite number is seven, but three comes pretty close. I work well in threes. I think in threes. So tonight, three was a good number ...Phoebe's three. In they came, one, two, three! Phoebe's nearest and dearest friends made their way into our house, settled in ...and I think for the first time since she died, actually felt at home, safe. There is an ease that comes from watching each other grow. One and two have been around for a while, first watching from afar, and then closer as they gradually grew in friendship, until it was formed, rooted ...forever. Three came along more recently into Phoebe's life, but the stride matched immediately, as if it had always been. I love these girls. They loved her ....no drama, no on then off friendships only to be on again ...they took all of her, and just loved. I spent a good bit of time with them and Phoebe in my kitchen. And we did, once again, tonight. They are part of us, part of the wounded, part of the rebuilders, part of our new life.
When someone dies, there is the obvious loss of that person ...the hopes, dreams, plans, space. But there is another loss ...of people ...who go. Once part of the life your loved one lived, they dribble and drabble away, finding no reason to stay ...not realizing the unresolved they are walking away from. Sometimes there is no other way, there is not enough history with the survivors to unite them. Sometimes there is so much pain, too hard to handle, perhaps they feel it can't possibly compare to the immediate survivors, and out of courtesy, stay away.
Not knowing the right words, the right time, the right place keeps people away. And yet, there are also times when people just lose interest, move on and beyond, leaving behind something that wasn't quite so important to them after all. All of these, and more reasons for staying away, are understandable.
With every loss, no matter how severe, there is a gain. There are those who stay ...and that ...is always good.
We've been blessed. Many have stayed. This trio of young woman ...have stayed. It has not been easy for them ...they have lives to build, people to meet ...but they have stayed. I'm not talking about physical staying, that just isn't practical. I'm talking about the hearts that stay. Three of her dearest hearts have stayed, are keeping watch, holding on.
Often, I've found myself at a loss for words when something profound is witnessed. Here I am again. I know how much Phoebe loved these three, what they meant to her, how they "fit" her. They are three treasures, she has left for me, three treasures to rest my heart in ....and let my heart love them as I had loved her.
The tears, the laughter (Phoebe was funny, quirky, creative) the memories, the what ifs ...all flowed tonight. These three and her four sisters and me ...Phoebe's life of girls.
We're still here Phoebe ...waiting on you! We've got some living to do, some things to make you proud, but one day , for sure ....we'll let you hold court, singing your songs, bossing all of us around, pushing onward to the next big adventure.
God has generously blessed us with you girlie ...each of us ...and we all know it. There will never be another like Phoebe ...another like you.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
When someone dies, there is the obvious loss of that person ...the hopes, dreams, plans, space. But there is another loss ...of people ...who go. Once part of the life your loved one lived, they dribble and drabble away, finding no reason to stay ...not realizing the unresolved they are walking away from. Sometimes there is no other way, there is not enough history with the survivors to unite them. Sometimes there is so much pain, too hard to handle, perhaps they feel it can't possibly compare to the immediate survivors, and out of courtesy, stay away.
Not knowing the right words, the right time, the right place keeps people away. And yet, there are also times when people just lose interest, move on and beyond, leaving behind something that wasn't quite so important to them after all. All of these, and more reasons for staying away, are understandable.
With every loss, no matter how severe, there is a gain. There are those who stay ...and that ...is always good.
We've been blessed. Many have stayed. This trio of young woman ...have stayed. It has not been easy for them ...they have lives to build, people to meet ...but they have stayed. I'm not talking about physical staying, that just isn't practical. I'm talking about the hearts that stay. Three of her dearest hearts have stayed, are keeping watch, holding on.
Often, I've found myself at a loss for words when something profound is witnessed. Here I am again. I know how much Phoebe loved these three, what they meant to her, how they "fit" her. They are three treasures, she has left for me, three treasures to rest my heart in ....and let my heart love them as I had loved her.
The tears, the laughter (Phoebe was funny, quirky, creative) the memories, the what ifs ...all flowed tonight. These three and her four sisters and me ...Phoebe's life of girls.
We're still here Phoebe ...waiting on you! We've got some living to do, some things to make you proud, but one day , for sure ....we'll let you hold court, singing your songs, bossing all of us around, pushing onward to the next big adventure.
God has generously blessed us with you girlie ...each of us ...and we all know it. There will never be another like Phoebe ...another like you.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Smiles
"Haven't seen that in a long time. Nice to see it so early in the day!" my husband commented early this morning. "What?" I had asked. I was smiling, upon rising. I haven't done that in a long time ...since Oct. 9, 2010. That was the last time I smiled in the morning, upon rising. Dawn has always come pretty easily to me. Rarely do I hit the snooze button, wish night would last longer. Its a temperament thing. Us cholerics are usually chomping at the bit to get the day moving ...so many things to do. Rarely do we see a mountain ahead of us, too high to climb. We don't give the tasks ahead a whole lot of thought ...other than ....they need to be done. It's a great trait of the choleric. The flip side is that we can steamrole through, getting things checked off our list, missing the finer, often important details around us. The windows need washing, but we might trample on the flower bed while doing it. Oops! It's been years now of knowing that about myself and trying to pay closer attention to the details that don't automatically appear on my radar. While others may rise, wishing the day ahead had not yet arrived, forcing themselves to smile ..., smiling is usually part of my rising ...just happens.
It came to me the other day that I will never return to who I was ...I am different. God has made me different. I've thought a lot lately about the religious who've dedicated their lives to others. Staying in a place for one year, two, maybe three. Growing to know and love the people they serve ...growing roots in a place among friends, while they strive to bring themselves and others closer to God. Boom! One day, they are reassigned, sent elsewhere to serve. I've loved some of those people ...watched them go off to distant places. Often we never hear from them again and when we do ...what a gift, a fond memory returns.
Yesterday in my daughters history lesson, we read about a quiet Franciscan friar who ran an orderly monastery in Spain. He just wanted to live quietly, praising God in the simplicity of life. King Charles I met him, was impressed by his demeanor and sent him to Mexico, as bishop, to re-establish the Spanish mission of bringing Christ to the world. It had gotten a bit "off track". This new bishop had ZERO interest in going over to this strange land. He had to go! He had to be OBEDIENT. I really don't like that word when it applies to me. Though I do like it when it applies to everyone else! Off he went, crossing the Atlantic ...no internet then, no cell phones ....just ...so long beloved country, dear friends, old life! God changed his course ...without warning, because ...He saw it best to change him, this simple friar, bring him even closer to the source of all Truth.
I've cried and I've yelled, shaken my fists at the sky, pounded the ground with them, screamed the most gutteral howls from deep down from the sheer pain of this loss. Why? How? Please, no! Dear God, please, with every ounce that I am, please, please spare me this agony. Please. But, Our Lord has chosen this agony for me. He has plucked me from a known life, to an unknown, without changing the geography of my place. God has chosen, planned from all eternity, to make me different ...it is His plan, His divine will. I can fight that for the rest of my life. Or, I can lean into it ...and cooperate, be obedient, embrace, strive to love this cross. He has given me free will. He has left that choice for me. He will not impose my acceptance. I must choose. I do. I accept. With every aching cell, every tear, every loneliness running through my veins, every sorrow resting on my shoulders ...I accept, dear Lord, with love ...and even gratitude ...that through this, you will save me, form me to be pleasing to You. Somehow, as I do that, this unfathomable acceptance of a nightmare beyond human imagination ...I find peace. I am not in charge. I am simply a follower, just as we all are meant to be. Unclench my fist ...and I can reach for His hand. Open my eyes and I can see the beauty I once had give way to the beauty before me, all around me. Close my mouth ...and listen to His Word, The Word made flesh ...Jesus Christ. Relax the stiffened back ...and bend with His ways ...rest in Him. The tears can run angry and searing ...or they can purify, cleanse ...release the grief to make way for the grace. I can scream at His plan ...or I can sing Him praise. He has left that choice to me. He has not left me the choice of my daughter ...that He has indeed taken, for now. But other choices ...He has left plenty. My days are still occupied groping in the dark for my girl gone missing ....likely, this will be for a while. But there is a new life, a new way for the taking. A life that keeps Christ at the center ....as I had thought I'd done ...but He wants more ...he wants everything, everything. I stretch, I reach, I follow ...I fail. And I begin again.
On this feast of the Epiphany, as the three kings approach the manger, having followed the brilliance of a star with faith ...let me too follow the brightness, fullness of His ways. Let me, like the kings leave all behind and follow with trust.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
It came to me the other day that I will never return to who I was ...I am different. God has made me different. I've thought a lot lately about the religious who've dedicated their lives to others. Staying in a place for one year, two, maybe three. Growing to know and love the people they serve ...growing roots in a place among friends, while they strive to bring themselves and others closer to God. Boom! One day, they are reassigned, sent elsewhere to serve. I've loved some of those people ...watched them go off to distant places. Often we never hear from them again and when we do ...what a gift, a fond memory returns.
Yesterday in my daughters history lesson, we read about a quiet Franciscan friar who ran an orderly monastery in Spain. He just wanted to live quietly, praising God in the simplicity of life. King Charles I met him, was impressed by his demeanor and sent him to Mexico, as bishop, to re-establish the Spanish mission of bringing Christ to the world. It had gotten a bit "off track". This new bishop had ZERO interest in going over to this strange land. He had to go! He had to be OBEDIENT. I really don't like that word when it applies to me. Though I do like it when it applies to everyone else! Off he went, crossing the Atlantic ...no internet then, no cell phones ....just ...so long beloved country, dear friends, old life! God changed his course ...without warning, because ...He saw it best to change him, this simple friar, bring him even closer to the source of all Truth.
I've cried and I've yelled, shaken my fists at the sky, pounded the ground with them, screamed the most gutteral howls from deep down from the sheer pain of this loss. Why? How? Please, no! Dear God, please, with every ounce that I am, please, please spare me this agony. Please. But, Our Lord has chosen this agony for me. He has plucked me from a known life, to an unknown, without changing the geography of my place. God has chosen, planned from all eternity, to make me different ...it is His plan, His divine will. I can fight that for the rest of my life. Or, I can lean into it ...and cooperate, be obedient, embrace, strive to love this cross. He has given me free will. He has left that choice for me. He will not impose my acceptance. I must choose. I do. I accept. With every aching cell, every tear, every loneliness running through my veins, every sorrow resting on my shoulders ...I accept, dear Lord, with love ...and even gratitude ...that through this, you will save me, form me to be pleasing to You. Somehow, as I do that, this unfathomable acceptance of a nightmare beyond human imagination ...I find peace. I am not in charge. I am simply a follower, just as we all are meant to be. Unclench my fist ...and I can reach for His hand. Open my eyes and I can see the beauty I once had give way to the beauty before me, all around me. Close my mouth ...and listen to His Word, The Word made flesh ...Jesus Christ. Relax the stiffened back ...and bend with His ways ...rest in Him. The tears can run angry and searing ...or they can purify, cleanse ...release the grief to make way for the grace. I can scream at His plan ...or I can sing Him praise. He has left that choice to me. He has not left me the choice of my daughter ...that He has indeed taken, for now. But other choices ...He has left plenty. My days are still occupied groping in the dark for my girl gone missing ....likely, this will be for a while. But there is a new life, a new way for the taking. A life that keeps Christ at the center ....as I had thought I'd done ...but He wants more ...he wants everything, everything. I stretch, I reach, I follow ...I fail. And I begin again.
On this feast of the Epiphany, as the three kings approach the manger, having followed the brilliance of a star with faith ...let me too follow the brightness, fullness of His ways. Let me, like the kings leave all behind and follow with trust.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Getting to know her
Last year I went to nursing school. I honestly don't know how I did it. But I did. And now I am a nurse. My family took a huge hit for me, cheered me on ...but it wasn't always easy. Three days into it, I stared at the deadline 24 hours away that would allow a full refund. A long-time friend listened as I cried, swore it was ridiculous, could never happen. If she could have reached through the phone from Colorado, she couldn't have been more insistent, grabbed me firmer. "NO!, she raised a voice that rarely raises. NOW, do it now. No time will ever be better ...it will happen." And it did. I am a nurse. For sure, it was a struggle to fit in the time needed to study, do well. Always the threat of losing your average hung over all of us as we watched a sturdy group of students fail out by decimals at the end of each semester. Saddened, knowing how hard people had worked, we had to go on ....there was yet another semester to conquer, clinicals to survive. So at home, the juggle to be mom and be student, required a delicate, balancing act.
One of my biggest supporters, which surprised me, was Phoebe. It surprised me because generally she expected my availability at the drop of a hat. School for mom changed that a bit. We often drove to and fro together ...just being with each other. I loved that time, am grateful for it. We learned a lot about each other on those rides, laughed a lot, fought sometimes, planned dinner, all sorts of things. It was a precious time with her ...had I only known.
One late afternoon in the spring she dangled on the couch while I studied at our dining table. The pharmacology list was enormous and this middle aged brain didn't have the capacity it once did. I was trying to think of ways to remember ...some of them were funny and she would laugh. "Mom" she had said "what am I going to do with my life?" "What do you think you want to do?" I had asked. Our conversation rambled on pleasantly over many ideas. " I just want my life to be extraordinary ....that's what I want." she murmured. I had begun to settle back in to memorization, looked up. "Well, can you think of anyone whose lived an extraordinary life you might like to emulate?" All I could see were her legs. "I think your life is extraordinary Mom ...I think you've lived an extraordinary life." I was stunned.
Here I sat, thinning, frizzy hair, pounds heavier with each baby, varicose veins, facial hair, bad breath, out of shape, impatient, wearing stretch pants, a messy house, wacky orthodox Catholic ...and she had called my life "extraordinary". My oldest daughter had thought to emulate ...my life. She had exposed a part of her, nearest her heart and joined it to mine. My girl. My Phoebe.
She had knelt beside me as I logged in to the computer this past July to find out the results of my boards. It said one word "pass". And I had sobbed. And she just held me. "You did it Mom." And her face held the widest smile, as she held me and rocked me. She was so proud of what I had accomplished.
I think back to that now and see those moments as the bridge to my life with her from here on. I was so proud of her too. She had given me a good run, pushed every button, multiple times, simultaneously ...but she had grown into such a fine young woman. We had found new ground. Yes, those times are the bridge that lead me to her now. She had said and done so many things that showed her deep, abiding love for me. I look at how God allows those things to take hold, take root, build a foundation in our lives. I had looked ahead to years with her by my side ...wanted that. She still is, just in a very different way.
Today, I finished my day at work. I have a dream job ...really. Just enough hours, great people ...and wonderful patients I get to know. I headed down the long hall and had the fullest sense of her skipping along next to me, smiling "Isn't this fun Mom! This is your time now!" Yes, I thought, Phoebe this is wonderful, and good. "Yeah, I told you it would be!" she giggled ...and off she went.
And so now I have this chance to know her ...in her utter perfection, in her fullness of joy. Those car rides, those conversations, that celebration and confidence she showed she had for me ....all now, make that possible. Possible, that my days with her ...even here, are not over, that I will continue to discover this daughter of mine and all she was created to be. Phoebe is indeed, now, living an extraordinary life ...a life in Christ ... a life she always dreamed of ...but could not name. What more could I want for my daughter? That is a blessing ...a gift.
Goodnight sweet girl!
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
One of my biggest supporters, which surprised me, was Phoebe. It surprised me because generally she expected my availability at the drop of a hat. School for mom changed that a bit. We often drove to and fro together ...just being with each other. I loved that time, am grateful for it. We learned a lot about each other on those rides, laughed a lot, fought sometimes, planned dinner, all sorts of things. It was a precious time with her ...had I only known.
One late afternoon in the spring she dangled on the couch while I studied at our dining table. The pharmacology list was enormous and this middle aged brain didn't have the capacity it once did. I was trying to think of ways to remember ...some of them were funny and she would laugh. "Mom" she had said "what am I going to do with my life?" "What do you think you want to do?" I had asked. Our conversation rambled on pleasantly over many ideas. " I just want my life to be extraordinary ....that's what I want." she murmured. I had begun to settle back in to memorization, looked up. "Well, can you think of anyone whose lived an extraordinary life you might like to emulate?" All I could see were her legs. "I think your life is extraordinary Mom ...I think you've lived an extraordinary life." I was stunned.
Here I sat, thinning, frizzy hair, pounds heavier with each baby, varicose veins, facial hair, bad breath, out of shape, impatient, wearing stretch pants, a messy house, wacky orthodox Catholic ...and she had called my life "extraordinary". My oldest daughter had thought to emulate ...my life. She had exposed a part of her, nearest her heart and joined it to mine. My girl. My Phoebe.
She had knelt beside me as I logged in to the computer this past July to find out the results of my boards. It said one word "pass". And I had sobbed. And she just held me. "You did it Mom." And her face held the widest smile, as she held me and rocked me. She was so proud of what I had accomplished.
I think back to that now and see those moments as the bridge to my life with her from here on. I was so proud of her too. She had given me a good run, pushed every button, multiple times, simultaneously ...but she had grown into such a fine young woman. We had found new ground. Yes, those times are the bridge that lead me to her now. She had said and done so many things that showed her deep, abiding love for me. I look at how God allows those things to take hold, take root, build a foundation in our lives. I had looked ahead to years with her by my side ...wanted that. She still is, just in a very different way.
Today, I finished my day at work. I have a dream job ...really. Just enough hours, great people ...and wonderful patients I get to know. I headed down the long hall and had the fullest sense of her skipping along next to me, smiling "Isn't this fun Mom! This is your time now!" Yes, I thought, Phoebe this is wonderful, and good. "Yeah, I told you it would be!" she giggled ...and off she went.
And so now I have this chance to know her ...in her utter perfection, in her fullness of joy. Those car rides, those conversations, that celebration and confidence she showed she had for me ....all now, make that possible. Possible, that my days with her ...even here, are not over, that I will continue to discover this daughter of mine and all she was created to be. Phoebe is indeed, now, living an extraordinary life ...a life in Christ ... a life she always dreamed of ...but could not name. What more could I want for my daughter? That is a blessing ...a gift.
Goodnight sweet girl!
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Cooperate
There is something to be said for the structure and routine of a day. There are still eight people under this roof, busy lives ...yet the absence is so real, so deeply felt and known. One less has shifted the orbit of this house, this family. I can't imagine if we were fewer ...the silence would be even louder. We were blessed so abundantly this Christmas ...I remind myself of that, cling to the truth of that grace. Life is more stark now ...a long, straight road ahead of us seems to fall into view. But I know the rhythms of our days will take on a new pace as life gets lived ...experiences happen. We will be newly formed, given the desire and grace to live onward.
There is no question though that I am a different person. I've been thinking lately how long it would take me to get back to my old self ...until I realized that will never happen. Who I am now is still a mystery to me. One person with a very similar story shared that her friends have said they are waiting for the old her to return ...the fun, bubbly, upbeat woman whose company they enjoyed and counted on. She's told them flat out ...I'm not her anymore ...I lost my boy. I know that sounds depressing, maybe even like she's given up, but it's not ...it's real. God changes us by what He gives us. We choose to accept it, work with it, give our all back to Him ...strive to even love what He's given us ...but we are changed. Another said it's like having an arm amputated and no one notices. The problem here is that an amputated arm would be far more welcome than a lost child. If it were the arm, people would notice, be reminded ...with a child, time passes, people forget ...think you've moved on. Sure, we'll all move on, those of us in this horrific group of people, but it will always be with us ... like a backpack, filled with rocks. At some point that will become okay ...but it sure will be different. Right now there are lots of things that are okay for me, that I won't work to fix or improve. Before, they would have been energy sources for me ...driven me. Now, I think I've just downsized my ambition, my drive. Think big ...no, think really little. In that, I think is one of the gifts from God. It keeps me more in the moment, less in the future. It helps me size things up in the most 'necessary' way, rather than the desired or optimal way. It keeps me sane for now. It even helps me hear stories I haven't before, live in them a while, wonder at the awe, marvel at God's plan, His ways, His plan. I'm think I 'm starting to let Him do more of the work in my life ...while I'm starting to cooperate more ...not typical of a choleric temperament.
Ah, yes ...this is part of the new, or at least temporary me.
Tonight I snuggled up on my bed with my three youngest and watched "The Waltons". I love this show. We all do. They just sort of cooperate with God. Produced during a time when God still had a place in our culture, He is spoken of often ...and prayed to regularly by the Waltons. It backs me up a little here at home.
"See, other families pray too" I say (they haven't caught on yet that the Waltons lived back in the thirties and forties). Even my older kids like the show, ask to watch it. Maybe it's because TV is really limited in this house, but when they do watch they sit real close and always seem refreshed after ...not too many shows you can say that about. As I watched tonight I listened to Grandma talk about faith and trust. She was talking to Mary Ellen and Erin, but it was as though she was talking to me ...I needed that pep talk. It helped, helped me realize and see that I don't really have to do anything right now ...just cooperate with Him ...just BE with Him. I wasn't even going to watch with them ...there's so much to do here ...take advantage of the distraction, but I think God really wanted me to sit down with them, snuggle up and let me hear from Him through one of my favorite TV characters of all time. He does the most interesting things to get our attention.
Another story was shared with me today that speaks of cooperation as well.
I've mentioned this friend before, the one I believe comes down from Heaven on occasion. Gifted with extraordinary faith, he shares stories that stop us in our tracks ...make us see the power and magnitude of God. Today he told the story of the flight into Egypt. Herod's men were a full day behind the Holy Family as they made their way to safety. Along the way, Joseph, Mary and the Christ child came upon a farmer and stopped for a little while. The farmer was sowing seed in his field. He became aware of who this child was and the danger they were in. Mary knew this and said to him, "If they come here and ask you about us, tell them the truth, there is no reason to deceive them." The farmer scratched his head. "Okay" thinking it was against better judgment. Along came Herod's men a day later. Had he seen the family traveling by chance. "Yes" he said "In fact they were here while I was sowing seed in my field." Herod's men looked at each other. "They are long gone then. We've missed them." Looking at the fields, the seed had already sprouted and grew hearty in its place, as though a month had passed in twenty four hours.
If all we do is cooperate, God will take care of the rest. Just surrender. Much easier said than done ...but I am learning.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
There is no question though that I am a different person. I've been thinking lately how long it would take me to get back to my old self ...until I realized that will never happen. Who I am now is still a mystery to me. One person with a very similar story shared that her friends have said they are waiting for the old her to return ...the fun, bubbly, upbeat woman whose company they enjoyed and counted on. She's told them flat out ...I'm not her anymore ...I lost my boy. I know that sounds depressing, maybe even like she's given up, but it's not ...it's real. God changes us by what He gives us. We choose to accept it, work with it, give our all back to Him ...strive to even love what He's given us ...but we are changed. Another said it's like having an arm amputated and no one notices. The problem here is that an amputated arm would be far more welcome than a lost child. If it were the arm, people would notice, be reminded ...with a child, time passes, people forget ...think you've moved on. Sure, we'll all move on, those of us in this horrific group of people, but it will always be with us ... like a backpack, filled with rocks. At some point that will become okay ...but it sure will be different. Right now there are lots of things that are okay for me, that I won't work to fix or improve. Before, they would have been energy sources for me ...driven me. Now, I think I've just downsized my ambition, my drive. Think big ...no, think really little. In that, I think is one of the gifts from God. It keeps me more in the moment, less in the future. It helps me size things up in the most 'necessary' way, rather than the desired or optimal way. It keeps me sane for now. It even helps me hear stories I haven't before, live in them a while, wonder at the awe, marvel at God's plan, His ways, His plan. I'm think I 'm starting to let Him do more of the work in my life ...while I'm starting to cooperate more ...not typical of a choleric temperament.
Ah, yes ...this is part of the new, or at least temporary me.
Tonight I snuggled up on my bed with my three youngest and watched "The Waltons". I love this show. We all do. They just sort of cooperate with God. Produced during a time when God still had a place in our culture, He is spoken of often ...and prayed to regularly by the Waltons. It backs me up a little here at home.
"See, other families pray too" I say (they haven't caught on yet that the Waltons lived back in the thirties and forties). Even my older kids like the show, ask to watch it. Maybe it's because TV is really limited in this house, but when they do watch they sit real close and always seem refreshed after ...not too many shows you can say that about. As I watched tonight I listened to Grandma talk about faith and trust. She was talking to Mary Ellen and Erin, but it was as though she was talking to me ...I needed that pep talk. It helped, helped me realize and see that I don't really have to do anything right now ...just cooperate with Him ...just BE with Him. I wasn't even going to watch with them ...there's so much to do here ...take advantage of the distraction, but I think God really wanted me to sit down with them, snuggle up and let me hear from Him through one of my favorite TV characters of all time. He does the most interesting things to get our attention.
Another story was shared with me today that speaks of cooperation as well.
I've mentioned this friend before, the one I believe comes down from Heaven on occasion. Gifted with extraordinary faith, he shares stories that stop us in our tracks ...make us see the power and magnitude of God. Today he told the story of the flight into Egypt. Herod's men were a full day behind the Holy Family as they made their way to safety. Along the way, Joseph, Mary and the Christ child came upon a farmer and stopped for a little while. The farmer was sowing seed in his field. He became aware of who this child was and the danger they were in. Mary knew this and said to him, "If they come here and ask you about us, tell them the truth, there is no reason to deceive them." The farmer scratched his head. "Okay" thinking it was against better judgment. Along came Herod's men a day later. Had he seen the family traveling by chance. "Yes" he said "In fact they were here while I was sowing seed in my field." Herod's men looked at each other. "They are long gone then. We've missed them." Looking at the fields, the seed had already sprouted and grew hearty in its place, as though a month had passed in twenty four hours.
If all we do is cooperate, God will take care of the rest. Just surrender. Much easier said than done ...but I am learning.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
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