It's funny how God guides me. Over the past few days the subject of forgiveness keeps presenting itself to me. All of us are affected by our families, present and past, just as we affect everyone we are related to. I know I am in need of forgiveness and forgiving. This is a beautiful prayer ...and I hope it helps all of us.
Tonight in place of the Rosary decade, I'll offer this prayer for all of you ...and I encourage all of you to do the same. May you be graced with His blessings.
PRAYER FOR HEALING THE FAMILY TREE
Rev. John H. Hampsch, C.M.F.
Heavenly Father, I come before you as your child in great need of your help. I have physical health need, emotional needs, spiritual needs, and interpersonal needs. Many of my problems have been caused by my own failures, neglect and sinfulness, for which I humbly be your forgiveness, Lord. But I also ask you to forgive the sins of my ancestors whose failures have left their effects on me in the form of unwanted tendencies, behavior patterns and defects in body, mind and spirit. Heal me, Lord, of all these disorders.
With your help I sincerely forgive everyone, especially living or dead members of my family tree, who have directly offended me or my loved ones in any way, or those whose sins have resulted in our present sufferings and disorders. In the name of your divine Son, Jesus, and in the power of his Holy Spirit, I ask you Father, to deliver me and my entire family tree from the influence of the evil one. Free all living and dead members of my family tree, including those in adoptive relationships, and those in extended family relationships, from every contaminating form of bondage. By your loving concern for us, heavenly Father, and by the shed blood of your precious Son, Jesus, I beg you to extend your blessing to me and to all my living and deceased relatives. Heal every negative effect transmitted through all past generations, and prevent such negative effects in future generations of my family tree.
I symbolically place the cross of Jesus over the head of each person in my family tree, and between each generation; I ask you to let the cleansing blood of Jesus purify the bloodlines in my family lineage. Set your protective angels to encamp around us, and permit Archangel Raphael, the patron of healing, to administer your divine healing power to all of us, even in areas of genetic disability. Give special power to our family members' guardian angels to heal, protect, guide and encourage each of us in all our needs. Let your healing power be released at this very moment, and let it continue as long as your sovereignty permits.
In our family tree, Lord, replace all bondage with a holy bonding in family love. And let there be an ever-deeper bonding with you, Lord, by the Holy Spirit, to your Son, Jesus. Let the family of the Holy Trinity pervade our family with its tender, warm, loving presence, so that our family may recognize and manifest that love in all our relationships. All of our unknown needs we include with this petition that we pray in Jesus' precious Name. Amen.
St. Joseph , patron of family life, pray for us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Fighting to Climb
I like control ...a lot. This walk through grief isn't anything I can control ...it washes its own way, sets its own erratic pace. There is no cycle or rhythm that can be known. I think I'll hit bottom and the ascent back up for air will be steady ...but it isn't. I have no control. Relief finds me, and I breath ...and within moments I am falling again. What is God teaching me? Why must the lesson be so difficult to bear? Why am I so hard to teach? I really want to please God with my life, be what He wants me to be ...and I feel like I am failing. I feel caged. I don't feel free. I am terrified ...and I'm not even sure why. Keep choosing Him ...that's what echoes in my head. Keep choosing ...Him.
For a while, Phoebe was so near ...she is not now, she has stepped away. I ask her, and her answer is distant but firm ..."it must be this way now." I don't think that means forever, I just think it means there is something I am to learn now. And maybe the lesson won't be clear to me for quite some time, long after these days pass.
Grabbing hold of what I trust, bead by bead, I'm trying to climb out ...to the sunshine again, if only for a moment. This is not what I would choose ...this life without Phoebe. I want her back with me. I need her.
Tonight I pray the fourth Joyful mystery for all of your intentions. Please include a very special intention for a dear friend and one of her family members. Pray that all goes well, the news is good, and there lives will not be disrupted. Thank you.
Presentation: Luke 2:22-24
And after the days of her purification, according to the law of Moses, were accomplished, they carried him to Jerusalem, to present him to the Lord: As it is written in the law of the Lord: Every male opening the womb shall be called holy to the Lord: And to offer a sacrifice, according as it is written in the law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons...
On the day of the Presentation God received infinitely more glory than He had hitherto received in the temple from all the sacrifices and all the holocausts of the Old Testament. On this day it is His own Son Jesus Who is offered to Him, and Who offers to the Father the infinite homage of adoration, thanksgiving, expiation and supplication.
This is indeed a gift worthy of God.
And it is from the hands of the Virgin, full of grace, that this offering, so pleasing to God, is received. Mary's faith is perfect. Filled with the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, she has a clear understanding of the value of the offering which she is making to God at this moment; by His inspirations the Holy Spirit brings her soul into harmony with the interior dispositions of the heart of her Divine Son.
Just as Mary had given her consent in the name of all humanity when the angel announced to her the mystery of the Incarnation, so also on this day Mary offers Jesus to the Father in the name of the whole human race. For she knows that her Son is "the King of Glory, the new light enkindled before the dawn, the Master of life and death."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
For a while, Phoebe was so near ...she is not now, she has stepped away. I ask her, and her answer is distant but firm ..."it must be this way now." I don't think that means forever, I just think it means there is something I am to learn now. And maybe the lesson won't be clear to me for quite some time, long after these days pass.
Grabbing hold of what I trust, bead by bead, I'm trying to climb out ...to the sunshine again, if only for a moment. This is not what I would choose ...this life without Phoebe. I want her back with me. I need her.
Tonight I pray the fourth Joyful mystery for all of your intentions. Please include a very special intention for a dear friend and one of her family members. Pray that all goes well, the news is good, and there lives will not be disrupted. Thank you.
Presentation: Luke 2:22-24
And after the days of her purification, according to the law of Moses, were accomplished, they carried him to Jerusalem, to present him to the Lord: As it is written in the law of the Lord: Every male opening the womb shall be called holy to the Lord: And to offer a sacrifice, according as it is written in the law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons...
On the day of the Presentation God received infinitely more glory than He had hitherto received in the temple from all the sacrifices and all the holocausts of the Old Testament. On this day it is His own Son Jesus Who is offered to Him, and Who offers to the Father the infinite homage of adoration, thanksgiving, expiation and supplication.
This is indeed a gift worthy of God.
And it is from the hands of the Virgin, full of grace, that this offering, so pleasing to God, is received. Mary's faith is perfect. Filled with the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, she has a clear understanding of the value of the offering which she is making to God at this moment; by His inspirations the Holy Spirit brings her soul into harmony with the interior dispositions of the heart of her Divine Son.
Just as Mary had given her consent in the name of all humanity when the angel announced to her the mystery of the Incarnation, so also on this day Mary offers Jesus to the Father in the name of the whole human race. For she knows that her Son is "the King of Glory, the new light enkindled before the dawn, the Master of life and death."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Climbing
As I listen to the countless stories by parents who have walked this path before me, one thing is mentioned over and over. Overwhelming sorrow, grief and fear will grip you seemingly from nowhere ...no warning ...just appears and grabs you with all it's strength ...taking us down all over again. It is a climb for sure. We make our way one treacherous step at a time, seemingly finding a groove, a rhythm to move us onward, only to step on one loose stone sending us to the very base where our ascent began. The difference is that when we began we had no sense of the terrain, now we do. We've learned a few small rings that make navigating the climb a bit less unfriendly. The walk of sorrow becomes our friend. Yesterday was horrible ...there was nothing anyone could say or do....it just had to be. Today was better, still hard, but I was busy, around others and involved in a task that kept my mind focused on something else. Those twists and turns still lurched in my gut, and my chest felt compressed. But I could pass the time, without desperation. They say the physical toll on one's body is enormous. I have no doubt that if I were to go a doctor they could find something terribly wrong. For today, it had eased up some, this pain. Still not free from the gripping anxiety, I know now it will pass. And I know too it will come again.
Last week a dad new to grief shared something that made a lot of sense. He came from a large family, close to their parents. Both parents, whom he loved very much, died within a year of each other. He shared how him and his siblings were devastated. Then he lost his son. ...said he had no idea what true grief was until then ...until his son died. Agony to watch him say this, like looking in a mirror, seeing the broken, bleeding heart. Through sobs ...he said ...my son is worth the pain. Yes, I thought ...my Phoebe is worth the pain, the suffering.
I will learn this rhythm, this chronic sorrow, missing. Knowing that rhythm, trusting in it frees me from despair, that loss of hope that brings us so far away from God. When I go away from Him, I go away from Phoebe ...and I don't want to go away from either one.
Yes, this pain will recede ...the extreme, physical agony and anguish that enters every cell will lessen for a bit. And the sun will shine for a time. The clouds will move in, and rain will fall. I will climb and fall, climb and fall ...but with every climb I seem to go a little higher. I know that now ....that the fall is part of the climb ...just is. How I wish Phoebe had remembered that as she was falling ... that it was just part of the climb.
Tonight I offer the third joyful mystery, the Nativity, for your intentions.
Nativity: Luke 2:6-7
And it came to pass, that when they were there, her days were accomplished, that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him up in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
The Virgin Mary sees in the Infant that she has given to the world, a child in appearance like all other children, the very Son of God. Mary's soul was filled with an immense faith which welled up in her and surpassed the faith of all the just men of the Old Testament; this is why she recognized her God in her own Son.
This faith manifests itself externally by an act of adoration. From her very first glance at Jesus, the Virgin prostrated herself interiorly in a spirit of adoration so profound that we can never fathom its depth.
In the heart of Mary are joined in perfect harmony a creature's adoration of her God and a Mother's love for her only Son.
How inconceivably great the joy in the soul of Jesus must have been as He experienced this boundless love of His Mother! Between these two souls took place ceaseless exchanges of love which brought them into ever closer unity. O wonderful exchange: to Mary Jesus gives the greatest gifts and graces, and to Jesus Mary gives her fullest cooperation: after the union of the Divine Persons in the Blessed Trinity and the hypostatic union of the divine and human natures in the Incarnation, no more glorious or more profound union can be conceived than the union between Jesus and Mary.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light nine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Last week a dad new to grief shared something that made a lot of sense. He came from a large family, close to their parents. Both parents, whom he loved very much, died within a year of each other. He shared how him and his siblings were devastated. Then he lost his son. ...said he had no idea what true grief was until then ...until his son died. Agony to watch him say this, like looking in a mirror, seeing the broken, bleeding heart. Through sobs ...he said ...my son is worth the pain. Yes, I thought ...my Phoebe is worth the pain, the suffering.
I will learn this rhythm, this chronic sorrow, missing. Knowing that rhythm, trusting in it frees me from despair, that loss of hope that brings us so far away from God. When I go away from Him, I go away from Phoebe ...and I don't want to go away from either one.
Yes, this pain will recede ...the extreme, physical agony and anguish that enters every cell will lessen for a bit. And the sun will shine for a time. The clouds will move in, and rain will fall. I will climb and fall, climb and fall ...but with every climb I seem to go a little higher. I know that now ....that the fall is part of the climb ...just is. How I wish Phoebe had remembered that as she was falling ... that it was just part of the climb.
Tonight I offer the third joyful mystery, the Nativity, for your intentions.
Nativity: Luke 2:6-7
And it came to pass, that when they were there, her days were accomplished, that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him up in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
The Virgin Mary sees in the Infant that she has given to the world, a child in appearance like all other children, the very Son of God. Mary's soul was filled with an immense faith which welled up in her and surpassed the faith of all the just men of the Old Testament; this is why she recognized her God in her own Son.
This faith manifests itself externally by an act of adoration. From her very first glance at Jesus, the Virgin prostrated herself interiorly in a spirit of adoration so profound that we can never fathom its depth.
In the heart of Mary are joined in perfect harmony a creature's adoration of her God and a Mother's love for her only Son.
How inconceivably great the joy in the soul of Jesus must have been as He experienced this boundless love of His Mother! Between these two souls took place ceaseless exchanges of love which brought them into ever closer unity. O wonderful exchange: to Mary Jesus gives the greatest gifts and graces, and to Jesus Mary gives her fullest cooperation: after the union of the Divine Persons in the Blessed Trinity and the hypostatic union of the divine and human natures in the Incarnation, no more glorious or more profound union can be conceived than the union between Jesus and Mary.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light nine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Slammed
Heaviness lay upon me in the wee hours of this morning. The day nears its end, and I am glad. It was a very rough day, easy tears, nausea, tremendous anxiety ...unrelenting ...and the why, why, why. It settled for the day. Someone had shared that the broken heart pain, the shatter of pointed edges residing in your chest, transitions as the grief moves on, not away, but on, and settles in your gut. I felt that creeping change, amazed that what was described would happen ...in fact, had. I don't know if it will travel back and forth, or stay here in my gut, leaving me twisted, uneasy. One day, perhaps it will be such a part of me I won't notice it anymore.
I have a special bouquet of friends. Its almost as if they take turns reading my mind. Today, as I struggled to keep the tears at bay, force a smile ...stuff away the pain ...she handed me something and said it made her think of me. The tears came. Yes, it makes me think of me too ... thank you dear friend. I had not seen this beautiful poem. I wasn't meant too until today, when its poignancy would pierce me. As I wrestle with how he holds me close and then seemingly lets go of me ...leaving me alone.
The Kiss of Christ
Lo, there He hangs
dying figure pinned
against the wood.
God, grant that I might
love Him
even as I should.
I draw a little closer to
share His love divine,
and softly hear Him
whisper,
"O foolish child of Mine
if now I should embrace
you, My hands would stain
you red,
and if I bent to kiss you,
My thorns would
pierce your head."
'Twas then I learned in
meekness
That love demands a
price;
'Twas the I knew that
sorrow was just
The kiss of Christ.
Tonight I offer the second joyful mystery, the Visitation for all of your intentions.
Visitation : Luke 1:42-45
And she cried out with a loud voice, and said: Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. And whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For behold as soon as the voice of thy salutation sounded in my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed art thou that hast believed, because those things shall be accomplished that were spoken to thee by the Lord.
See how the Holy Spirit greets the Virgin Mary through the mouth of Elizabeth: "Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb! And blessed art thou that hast believed, because those things shall be accomplished that were spoke to thee by the Lord."
Blessed indeed, for by this faith in the word of God the Virgin Mary became the Mother of Christ.
What finite creature has ever received honor such as this from the Infinite Being?
Mary gives all the glory to the Lord for the marvelous things which are accomplished in her. From the moment of the Incarnation the Virgin Mother sings in her heart a canticle full of love and gratitude.
In the presence of her cousin Elizabeth she allows the most profound sentiments of her heart to break forth in song; she intones the "Magnificat" which, in the course of centuries, her children will repeat with her to praise God for having chosen her among all women:
"My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, Because He has regarded the lowliness of His handmaid... Because He Who is mighty has done great things for me And holy is His name."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
I have a special bouquet of friends. Its almost as if they take turns reading my mind. Today, as I struggled to keep the tears at bay, force a smile ...stuff away the pain ...she handed me something and said it made her think of me. The tears came. Yes, it makes me think of me too ... thank you dear friend. I had not seen this beautiful poem. I wasn't meant too until today, when its poignancy would pierce me. As I wrestle with how he holds me close and then seemingly lets go of me ...leaving me alone.
The Kiss of Christ
Lo, there He hangs
dying figure pinned
against the wood.
God, grant that I might
love Him
even as I should.
I draw a little closer to
share His love divine,
and softly hear Him
whisper,
"O foolish child of Mine
if now I should embrace
you, My hands would stain
you red,
and if I bent to kiss you,
My thorns would
pierce your head."
'Twas then I learned in
meekness
That love demands a
price;
'Twas the I knew that
sorrow was just
The kiss of Christ.
Tonight I offer the second joyful mystery, the Visitation for all of your intentions.
Visitation : Luke 1:42-45
And she cried out with a loud voice, and said: Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. And whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For behold as soon as the voice of thy salutation sounded in my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed art thou that hast believed, because those things shall be accomplished that were spoken to thee by the Lord.
See how the Holy Spirit greets the Virgin Mary through the mouth of Elizabeth: "Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb! And blessed art thou that hast believed, because those things shall be accomplished that were spoke to thee by the Lord."
Blessed indeed, for by this faith in the word of God the Virgin Mary became the Mother of Christ.
What finite creature has ever received honor such as this from the Infinite Being?
Mary gives all the glory to the Lord for the marvelous things which are accomplished in her. From the moment of the Incarnation the Virgin Mother sings in her heart a canticle full of love and gratitude.
In the presence of her cousin Elizabeth she allows the most profound sentiments of her heart to break forth in song; she intones the "Magnificat" which, in the course of centuries, her children will repeat with her to praise God for having chosen her among all women:
"My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, Because He has regarded the lowliness of His handmaid... Because He Who is mighty has done great things for me And holy is His name."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Walking Alone
Each day I find ways to ask each one of my kids how things are ...see how they're doing. For years Phoebe's sisters, and youngest brother sat side by side, played, sang, fought as we homeschooled our way through the days, weeks, years. Homeschooling forges a special bond, a tie, an intimacy that cannot be replaced. The essence of education is in the essence of the family ...and the faith. Education does not exist without the family ...and the family does not exist without the faith ...the education. Unless you've homeschooled, this probably makes no sense, but the point is ...these kids had a unique bond with their big sister. Of course I worry about them every day. Everyone seems to be doing okay ...thankfully. It's quite unusual we would all be doing as well as we are. It doesn't mean there isn't sorrow, missing, pain, confusion ...all sorts of emotions, but I think what it means is when we root ourselves in faith ... as difficult as our culture makes that ...we have a life boat, a safety net ...a rescue. Compound with friendships, expanded by friendships creating a web of prayer that keeps us safe ...whole. We are rebuilding, retooling, revising ...all by the grace of God.
I wish we weren't in this place. I wish we were planning for Phoebe ...for her transition from high school to adulthood ...from seventeen to eighteen. She always wanted to be eighteen. Maybe she thought she would be sad when she turned that age she so desired. Kind of like when the Red Sox finally won the World Series after decades of loss. The victory, the arrival was sweet ...but truly something was lost. The chase was over. I think Phoebe loved the chase for freedom, independence ...eighteen. Maybe she wanted the eternal chase ...she'll never reach eighteen.
But for us ...the days that approach remind us of her mission, and we carry that forward for her. It's one of the ways we make it through, reaching for the milestones meant for Phoebe. Yesterday I sent off pictures for her yearbook. She will still be part of her high school's history ...part of what made the graduating class the fine young women they've become. It was painful, heartbreaking for me to pull together the one's I thought best. Only a few, but one's that attempt to capture the essence of her life with us ...her life. Those pages pay tribute to a girl meant to be with us now, still. The sorrow is deep and abiding ...adjacent is a sense of peace, a joy emerging day by day as a new life, a new normal, a new way of being emerges.
Joy has become part of my life, once again. In a very different way, I live "up there" with her. She comes along with me everywhere ...even in the shower I talk to her and I hear her say "Mom, you're not even dressed, I'll talk to you when your covered" and together we giggle. I can't explain these conversations. I don't feel crazy, I don't sense that I'm living in another world, inside my own head. There is no sense of her physical presence, just the funny little dialogues that belonged to just us. She would often sit on my bed when I showered and when I came from the bathroom in a towel she would scold me for immodesty, aghast at my behavior and I would remind her she was in my room without an invitation. Often she would storm out in complete disgust. She had promised me, actually I had made her promise, that when I am old and wild hair begins sprouting from unusual areas on my face she would be in charge. Sadly, I reminded her, told her I was on my own. I don't know if my other girls would be as honest with me. She giggled in my head and said she would still help me, make sure the sun shone on them when I could see. "Always carry tweezers with you Mawma." she laughed. I am texting on her phone since mine broke; clearly I lack the dexterity she had. Over my shoulder, I see her sighing at my inability to navigate the miniscule keyboard. Her breath falls on my neck as she leans in close and watches me send messages to her best friends, checking in, staying close. I see her names for them in her contact list, oddly merged with mine when I switched sim cards. Her names for cherished ones.
I shop and she is there, pointing out colors, things for the house ...she still has a say, and she knows it. I walk this life without her, yet so much a part of her. Phoebe follows me from room to room, certain places, spaces provoke me, bring out the anger ...and I scold her, let her see the rawness she has left me with, the open wound that will never heal. I sit by the fire and she eases in, stays with me. Her life is still ...will never die. The body is gone, the molecules that made her visibile, touchable are gone ...but she is still. There are no words that can describe it ...this thing, this companionship I have. Reminds me of a book I read a few years back, Peace Like a River, I forget the author. The father in the book is often seen conversing with someone, unseen. Seems like he's gone mad. But he's sensible, responsible ...at peace. He is talking to God. It feels like that in a way ...she's right here. Is that because I choose her to be here, make her be here when she isn't, or is it real ...is this some grace to get me through? Someone asked recently of those of us who've lost a child when you stop feeling their presence, forget the smell of them, their movement, expressions ...when does that go? The answer came back ...never. Eight, sixteen, twenty years later, parents haven't forgotten the essence of their child. It never fades, it stays as strong as the last time you were with that child. Thank God! To hear that soothes so much. One of the greatest fears is they will be forgotten ...by their own parent. I don't fear that so much now. I know she is here, with us. My littles blow kisses to her and know she blows them back. She collects our prayers for us, making them a bouquet for when we greet her again.
Still, there are moments of such loss, such emptiness as I see her yearbook pages take shape, telling a bit of her story ...that is finished, here anyway. Plop down next to me on the couch dear girl and please, please, please tell me how much you need a new pair of jeans because you only have 57 pairs. Please!?
I sit alone, I walk alone, without my Phoebe. I miss her. And as I write these words a package has come, delivered from the only one whose arms Phoebe flew into before even knowing her. Neenie. Phoebe would not let people look at her, never mind hold her, if she didn't know you. But before words were exchanged between Phoebe and Neenie, they enveloped each other ...and loved each other for a very long time. Two open it up, knowing the love of the two that sent it. Please, please, they beg me. Okay I mouth, quietly. I hear crinkles. Something yummy, I suspect. My battery begins to die and demands to be plugged in, so I go to the kitchen and there on the counter is a box of heart shaped cookies frosted in pink buttercream ...Phoebe's favorite kind of cookie. Here she is again! Letting me know ...and you know too, she still claims her space here ...still is so much a part of us. And how fitting for her and us they would come from Neenie and Poppa. I ask her to sit on the couch and ask me for jeans ...she brings a box of her favorite cookies in the shape of a heart. Am I reading into things ...maybe! I don't think so, Phoebe just keeps the bonds strong. Seeing with the eyes of faith is the reward of trusting in Him, having confidence in our creator.
Cookies from Neenie and Poppa ...a little bit of Heaven on earth! Phoebe's favorite cookie ...a little bit of earth in Heaven.
Tonight I will pray the first joyful mystery, The Annunciation, for all of you fine reader and your intentions, join me if you care to, and let us know your prayer requests by posting them in the comments. We can pray for those posted later, in the next decade offered.
Annunciation: Luke 1:31-32
Behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and shalt bring forth a son; and thou shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the most High; and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of David his father; and he shall reign in the house of Jacob for ever.
Picture the scene of the Annunciation. God proposes the mystery of the Incarnation which He will accomplish in the Virgin Mary--but not until she has given her consent. The accomplishment of the mystery is held in suspense awaiting the free acceptance of Mary. At this moment Mary represents all of us in her own person; it is as if God is waiting for the response of the humanity to which He longs to unite Himself. What a solemn moment this is! For upon this moment depends the decision of the most vital mystery of Christianity.
But see how Mary gives her answer. Full of faith and confidence in the heavenly message and entirely submissive to the Divine Will, the Virgin Mary replies in a spirit of complete and absolute abandonment: "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to Thy word." This "Fiat" is Mary's consent to the Divine Plan of Redemption. It is like an echo of the "Fiat" of the creation of the world. But this is a new world, a world infinitely superior, a world of grace, which God will cause to arise in consequence of Mary's consent, for at that moment the Divine Word, the second Person of the Blessed Trinity, becomes Man in Mary: "And the Word was made Flesh and dwelt among us."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
I wish we weren't in this place. I wish we were planning for Phoebe ...for her transition from high school to adulthood ...from seventeen to eighteen. She always wanted to be eighteen. Maybe she thought she would be sad when she turned that age she so desired. Kind of like when the Red Sox finally won the World Series after decades of loss. The victory, the arrival was sweet ...but truly something was lost. The chase was over. I think Phoebe loved the chase for freedom, independence ...eighteen. Maybe she wanted the eternal chase ...she'll never reach eighteen.
But for us ...the days that approach remind us of her mission, and we carry that forward for her. It's one of the ways we make it through, reaching for the milestones meant for Phoebe. Yesterday I sent off pictures for her yearbook. She will still be part of her high school's history ...part of what made the graduating class the fine young women they've become. It was painful, heartbreaking for me to pull together the one's I thought best. Only a few, but one's that attempt to capture the essence of her life with us ...her life. Those pages pay tribute to a girl meant to be with us now, still. The sorrow is deep and abiding ...adjacent is a sense of peace, a joy emerging day by day as a new life, a new normal, a new way of being emerges.
Joy has become part of my life, once again. In a very different way, I live "up there" with her. She comes along with me everywhere ...even in the shower I talk to her and I hear her say "Mom, you're not even dressed, I'll talk to you when your covered" and together we giggle. I can't explain these conversations. I don't feel crazy, I don't sense that I'm living in another world, inside my own head. There is no sense of her physical presence, just the funny little dialogues that belonged to just us. She would often sit on my bed when I showered and when I came from the bathroom in a towel she would scold me for immodesty, aghast at my behavior and I would remind her she was in my room without an invitation. Often she would storm out in complete disgust. She had promised me, actually I had made her promise, that when I am old and wild hair begins sprouting from unusual areas on my face she would be in charge. Sadly, I reminded her, told her I was on my own. I don't know if my other girls would be as honest with me. She giggled in my head and said she would still help me, make sure the sun shone on them when I could see. "Always carry tweezers with you Mawma." she laughed. I am texting on her phone since mine broke; clearly I lack the dexterity she had. Over my shoulder, I see her sighing at my inability to navigate the miniscule keyboard. Her breath falls on my neck as she leans in close and watches me send messages to her best friends, checking in, staying close. I see her names for them in her contact list, oddly merged with mine when I switched sim cards. Her names for cherished ones.
I shop and she is there, pointing out colors, things for the house ...she still has a say, and she knows it. I walk this life without her, yet so much a part of her. Phoebe follows me from room to room, certain places, spaces provoke me, bring out the anger ...and I scold her, let her see the rawness she has left me with, the open wound that will never heal. I sit by the fire and she eases in, stays with me. Her life is still ...will never die. The body is gone, the molecules that made her visibile, touchable are gone ...but she is still. There are no words that can describe it ...this thing, this companionship I have. Reminds me of a book I read a few years back, Peace Like a River, I forget the author. The father in the book is often seen conversing with someone, unseen. Seems like he's gone mad. But he's sensible, responsible ...at peace. He is talking to God. It feels like that in a way ...she's right here. Is that because I choose her to be here, make her be here when she isn't, or is it real ...is this some grace to get me through? Someone asked recently of those of us who've lost a child when you stop feeling their presence, forget the smell of them, their movement, expressions ...when does that go? The answer came back ...never. Eight, sixteen, twenty years later, parents haven't forgotten the essence of their child. It never fades, it stays as strong as the last time you were with that child. Thank God! To hear that soothes so much. One of the greatest fears is they will be forgotten ...by their own parent. I don't fear that so much now. I know she is here, with us. My littles blow kisses to her and know she blows them back. She collects our prayers for us, making them a bouquet for when we greet her again.
Still, there are moments of such loss, such emptiness as I see her yearbook pages take shape, telling a bit of her story ...that is finished, here anyway. Plop down next to me on the couch dear girl and please, please, please tell me how much you need a new pair of jeans because you only have 57 pairs. Please!?
I sit alone, I walk alone, without my Phoebe. I miss her. And as I write these words a package has come, delivered from the only one whose arms Phoebe flew into before even knowing her. Neenie. Phoebe would not let people look at her, never mind hold her, if she didn't know you. But before words were exchanged between Phoebe and Neenie, they enveloped each other ...and loved each other for a very long time. Two open it up, knowing the love of the two that sent it. Please, please, they beg me. Okay I mouth, quietly. I hear crinkles. Something yummy, I suspect. My battery begins to die and demands to be plugged in, so I go to the kitchen and there on the counter is a box of heart shaped cookies frosted in pink buttercream ...Phoebe's favorite kind of cookie. Here she is again! Letting me know ...and you know too, she still claims her space here ...still is so much a part of us. And how fitting for her and us they would come from Neenie and Poppa. I ask her to sit on the couch and ask me for jeans ...she brings a box of her favorite cookies in the shape of a heart. Am I reading into things ...maybe! I don't think so, Phoebe just keeps the bonds strong. Seeing with the eyes of faith is the reward of trusting in Him, having confidence in our creator.
Cookies from Neenie and Poppa ...a little bit of Heaven on earth! Phoebe's favorite cookie ...a little bit of earth in Heaven.
Tonight I will pray the first joyful mystery, The Annunciation, for all of you fine reader and your intentions, join me if you care to, and let us know your prayer requests by posting them in the comments. We can pray for those posted later, in the next decade offered.
Annunciation: Luke 1:31-32
Behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and shalt bring forth a son; and thou shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the most High; and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of David his father; and he shall reign in the house of Jacob for ever.
Picture the scene of the Annunciation. God proposes the mystery of the Incarnation which He will accomplish in the Virgin Mary--but not until she has given her consent. The accomplishment of the mystery is held in suspense awaiting the free acceptance of Mary. At this moment Mary represents all of us in her own person; it is as if God is waiting for the response of the humanity to which He longs to unite Himself. What a solemn moment this is! For upon this moment depends the decision of the most vital mystery of Christianity.
But see how Mary gives her answer. Full of faith and confidence in the heavenly message and entirely submissive to the Divine Will, the Virgin Mary replies in a spirit of complete and absolute abandonment: "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to Thy word." This "Fiat" is Mary's consent to the Divine Plan of Redemption. It is like an echo of the "Fiat" of the creation of the world. But this is a new world, a world infinitely superior, a world of grace, which God will cause to arise in consequence of Mary's consent, for at that moment the Divine Word, the second Person of the Blessed Trinity, becomes Man in Mary: "And the Word was made Flesh and dwelt among us."
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Devotions
There's lots of things that can discourage a mother. Trying to raise your children in the authentic faith is a daunting task ...it is so beyond the realm of the "typical." But, I am committed and convicted to give it my all ...even when it seems unattainable. The other day, I stole a few moments of quiet to spend some time in prayer, conversing (complaining) with God. I wanted to say my rosary and read a little about St. Joseph. Just a few moments of quiet, time to myself ...a few moments free from the demands, to restore, refresh. It was Sunday ....the day of rest, yet there I was doing all the typical tasks of the day. Sunday is a day to reflect on God a little more than usual, spend time with family, friends ...a day to stay away from the stores ...away from the regularity of life ...a time to renew. Maria Von Trapp (Sound of Music) had written a little book, really little, called "Land Without A Sunday." She reflected on how Russia had made Sunday ...just another day ...no different from any other ...another day away from God. I took that book to heart. As a child, I remember the empty parking lots, the Sunday dinner, the different pace and tone. That changed. Still, we try to keep Sunday free of shopping (much to my kids chagrin), free from the regular. So this past Sunday as I saw too much of a regular day creeping in, taking hold, I removed myself. For nearly 21 years now, this momma doesn't get too far ...alone. First one, quietly sat beside me ...then another climbed on my lap, while someone else sat on the arm of the couch, huddled close. "What are you doing?" "Praying, saying my rosary." One left to bring back more beads and asked if they could join me. At first I had thought my quiet time was gone ...though its always good to pray together. Still, I had wanted a little bit of time to give God my whole list of latest complaints and suggestions for how He should operate from Heaven. As we started, two other girls gave sideways glances and settled close by, but not close enough to be accused of joining it ...but they stayed ...quietly. And we prayed the rosary ...one of the most beautiful I've ever offered. My little cherubs so eager and open to hear stories of each mystery, asking questions and taken by the magnitude of God's love for them. I've known for many years the importance of the rosary. It was an afternoon of passing on my devotion to the rosary. I've been doing that for many many years, but there was something unique about this particular afternoon ...this particular rosary.
Long ago, my own mother would quietly settle into the living room couch to pray her own rosary. She'd read her book, say her prayers. I didn't know at the time how much she was teaching me, showing me how to stay close to God. As my kids joined me in my "quiet" prayer time, Lucy told me very softly, with a sweet smile, "Mom, it was Phoebe who taught me the rosary. I remember the day she showed me how." One more little visit, nod from Heaven. I hadn't known that, had assumed Lucy just learned as we went along ...but it was Phoebe who made it Lucy's own devotion ...had taken it from imitation to devotion.
Devotions are an important thing in the life of the faithful. Places and times have found Catholics without Mass, without the sacraments. What has kept the faith alive, sustained us for years and years are the devotions. Bead by bead, the rosary links us from the past ...to the present ...to the future, our heavenly future. It's part of our daily life ...imploring the Blessed Mother, bead by bead, to lead us to her Son. It was a gift, a treasure passed on to me. Entrusted to me to pass on to my own. I hope I've done that well. In the past, I've hoped that such devotion would protect us from worldly struggles. Devotions, the rosary, are not magic potions. Despite all the rosaries Phoebe had said, she died far too young. Seemingly, it hasn't given us an armor that makes us totally resistant, untouchable. But I do think it gives us sure footing ...a foundation to return to over and over as we walk through the treacherous path of life. Devotion to the rosary doesn't remove us from the world, but I believe it aids us in walking through the world with our gaze fixed on eternity. A gaze fixed on eternity cuts out a lot of gazing at the glitter of this world ...which can all too often distract us from God.
Each time I post, I'd like to offer a decade of the rosary for the intentions of anyone who reads here.
If you'd like to make your intentions known, post them in the comments. So many people have prayed for Phoebe, my family, me ...I can never repay the generosity that has literally kept us afloat, kept our gaze fixed on Heaven. It is a very small way to say THANK YOU!
Bead by precious bead ...we'll all make our way home.
Since tonight brings an end to the Christmas season as we celebrate Candlemas, the Presentation of Our Lord, I'll start out of order with the third Joyful mystery, The Presentation. I'm asking Phoebe to join us as well ...and I think she will!
The Presentation:
Presentation: Luke 2:22-24
And after the days of her purification, according to the law of Moses, were accomplished, they carried him to Jerusalem, to present him to the Lord: As it is written in the law of the Lord: Every male opening the womb shall be called holy to the Lord: And to offer a sacrifice, according as it is written in the law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons...
On the day of the Presentation God received infinitely more glory than He had hitherto received in the temple from all the sacrifices and all the holocausts of the Old Testament. On this day it is His own Son Jesus Who is offered to Him, and Who offers to the Father the infinite homage of adoration, thanksgiving, expiation and supplication.
This is indeed a gift worthy of God.
And it is from the hands of the Virgin, full of grace, that this offering, so pleasing to God, is received. Mary's faith is perfect. Filled with the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, she has a clear understanding of the value of the offering which she is making to God at this moment; by His inspirations the Holy Spirit brings her soul into harmony with the interior dispositions of the heart of her Divine Son.
Just as Mary had given her consent in the name of all humanity when the angel announced to her the mystery of the Incarnation, so also on this day Mary offers Jesus to the Father in the name of the whole human race. For she knows that her Son is "the King of Glory, the new light enkindled before the dawn, the Master of life and death."
Taken from Fisheaters.com
Long ago, my own mother would quietly settle into the living room couch to pray her own rosary. She'd read her book, say her prayers. I didn't know at the time how much she was teaching me, showing me how to stay close to God. As my kids joined me in my "quiet" prayer time, Lucy told me very softly, with a sweet smile, "Mom, it was Phoebe who taught me the rosary. I remember the day she showed me how." One more little visit, nod from Heaven. I hadn't known that, had assumed Lucy just learned as we went along ...but it was Phoebe who made it Lucy's own devotion ...had taken it from imitation to devotion.
Devotions are an important thing in the life of the faithful. Places and times have found Catholics without Mass, without the sacraments. What has kept the faith alive, sustained us for years and years are the devotions. Bead by bead, the rosary links us from the past ...to the present ...to the future, our heavenly future. It's part of our daily life ...imploring the Blessed Mother, bead by bead, to lead us to her Son. It was a gift, a treasure passed on to me. Entrusted to me to pass on to my own. I hope I've done that well. In the past, I've hoped that such devotion would protect us from worldly struggles. Devotions, the rosary, are not magic potions. Despite all the rosaries Phoebe had said, she died far too young. Seemingly, it hasn't given us an armor that makes us totally resistant, untouchable. But I do think it gives us sure footing ...a foundation to return to over and over as we walk through the treacherous path of life. Devotion to the rosary doesn't remove us from the world, but I believe it aids us in walking through the world with our gaze fixed on eternity. A gaze fixed on eternity cuts out a lot of gazing at the glitter of this world ...which can all too often distract us from God.
Each time I post, I'd like to offer a decade of the rosary for the intentions of anyone who reads here.
If you'd like to make your intentions known, post them in the comments. So many people have prayed for Phoebe, my family, me ...I can never repay the generosity that has literally kept us afloat, kept our gaze fixed on Heaven. It is a very small way to say THANK YOU!
Bead by precious bead ...we'll all make our way home.
Since tonight brings an end to the Christmas season as we celebrate Candlemas, the Presentation of Our Lord, I'll start out of order with the third Joyful mystery, The Presentation. I'm asking Phoebe to join us as well ...and I think she will!
The Presentation:
Presentation: Luke 2:22-24
And after the days of her purification, according to the law of Moses, were accomplished, they carried him to Jerusalem, to present him to the Lord: As it is written in the law of the Lord: Every male opening the womb shall be called holy to the Lord: And to offer a sacrifice, according as it is written in the law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons...
On the day of the Presentation God received infinitely more glory than He had hitherto received in the temple from all the sacrifices and all the holocausts of the Old Testament. On this day it is His own Son Jesus Who is offered to Him, and Who offers to the Father the infinite homage of adoration, thanksgiving, expiation and supplication.
This is indeed a gift worthy of God.
And it is from the hands of the Virgin, full of grace, that this offering, so pleasing to God, is received. Mary's faith is perfect. Filled with the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, she has a clear understanding of the value of the offering which she is making to God at this moment; by His inspirations the Holy Spirit brings her soul into harmony with the interior dispositions of the heart of her Divine Son.
Just as Mary had given her consent in the name of all humanity when the angel announced to her the mystery of the Incarnation, so also on this day Mary offers Jesus to the Father in the name of the whole human race. For she knows that her Son is "the King of Glory, the new light enkindled before the dawn, the Master of life and death."
Taken from Fisheaters.com
May your prayers be answered and your heart converted to true union with the will of God.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Bringing us Closer
I like it when the cloud lifts ...even just a little. I wish I could stay in the moments of peace, the bliss of happy remembering. Seems once you take them in, appreciate their worth ..they go. Perhaps those moments wouldn't have the weight, intensity, the joy ...if they stayed too long. Those rest posts along the way ...are just that, resting posts. Beacons that light the way ahead, forward, onward, assurance there is a path ...a destination. Some day we'll arrive. We all need some time to rest, gather our thoughts, take in the view, take stock. I don't know if we could sustain the measure of this grief if rest never came. Those moments grow a bit longer each time they come now. We're told as life goes on that will happen ...and the times of sorrow, deep, searing pain, lessen. I hope so. Thinking back on just a few days ago, I try to regain my desire to join Phoebe, let her lead me and accept her invitation to live in peace ...in the fullness of the peace she is in now. It is far more appealing than trying to chisel out my own sense of peace. I think about so many things that are supposed to be happening now. Loose ends beginning to come together as her life takes shape ...leading towards a future. And it is here I find myself stuck. Caught between what was supposed to be ...who she was supposed to become over this year and the coming months ....and now, who she is and what she has become. Our ultimate goal as parents is to get our children to Heaven. How often do we stop and consider all the stuff in between their birth ...and their death? Our children are not supposed to die before us ...long after, so most of what we do is plan, guide and assist them in entering adulthood, forming a life of their own. For many years our goal has been to get our kids to Heaven ...but it takes a new meaning, grows heftier when their lives are jettisoned towards that goal far sooner than anticipated.
I believe God has blessed me deeply with a knowledge and assurance that Phoebe is indeed in Heaven. I hesitate to say that because I don't want to mislead or misconstrue what our faith teaches. Our culture, even those within the Church, tend to send people immediately to Heaven. But we know as Catholics that Christ taught us differently ...and most of us will go to Purgatory for a time, while others will end up in Hell. I know the notion of Hell isn't popular and that plenty suggest vehemently it does not exist ...but, it does. Not my opinion, just a fact. Christ spoke quite clearly about its existence and the reality of souls going there. I wrestled with where my Phoebe had gone ...I didn't assume anything, but certainly struggled with the not knowing ...But God is kind, and knows this mother's heart. He gave me peace.
So, we have attained our goal for our daughter. Why then, does that not settle the heart? It is a tough, tough thing to accept ...because I'm human, stubborn ...a mother. I want to call the shots. I never really could though with Phoebe. Always fiercely independent, there was a part of mothering her that was unattainable. Some kids are just like that ...and I don't know why?
One of my favorite books is A Prayer for Owen Meany. The life of Owen Meany comes down to one defining moment ...his purpose in this life was to accomplish a very specific goal. He does. I think most of us are meant for many different things. Some of us are the teachers ...our lives are largely meant to shape, lead, guide and form others. Some of us are meant to learn. Most of us are a mix of the two, crossing paths with others, learning and teaching ...showing each other the way. I've thought so much about Phoebe since she died. Truth be told, I've always thought quite a bit about her. Her life was so terribly short ...for what purpose? Could God have swooped in, surrounding her with angels, rescuing her from her darkest moment? Of course ...so why didn't He? For starters, no one respects our free will more than God. He lets us make our own choices ...even bad ones. I wonder though too ...what He knew would come from this ...could come from this horror. Did Phoebe, like Owen Meany, have a very particular goal to accomplish? And if yes, then what?
I could be wrong, but I'm beginning to see something emerge from the haze. No person challenged me more, asked me more questions, posed more contrary thoughts, looked me in the eye and made me swear I believed what I said I believed, than my own flesh and blood ...my Phoebe. She would come at me with kindness, pity, condescension, anger, mockery ...challenging every single aspect of my faith, my faith as a Roman, not American, but Roman Catholic. Sometimes the assault was covert, silly ...at times hostile. I cannot think of one area she did examine. For sure it was her way of examining, discovering her own faith ...figuring out what she actually believed. Often too tired to battle, I would mumble something, struggle to find words to make myself sound intelligent, well reasoned. Weary, I would often respond with "I just accept it Phoebe, and the more I do just that, the more it makes sense to me, the more understanding I seem to have."
Faith is the promise of things hoped for, the promise of things unseen. This reality is hard to grasp, can't be pinned down. Phoebe entered a world that needed to make sense on an individual level. That world doesn't ascend to the sense of God ...to His ultimate plan for all of us. How confusing that must have been for her. So headstrong, she resisted the hand holding that could have ushered her in with a smoother transition. Confident she could handle all of it, she forgot to ask for help, wouldn't admit she needed some. I wonder now if those challenges with me about my faith, were in fact a round about way of just saying "hey mom, this doesn't make any sense to me, can you help me figure it all out." Makes me so sad to think that now ...her fortress was impenetrable for most, if not all, of us.
It seems selfish to write this, but her struggle, her challenge ...her death, the unbearable nature and fact of her death ...all of it, solidified my faith, made me lean into God even more. Rather than reject my faith as a Catholic, even in little ways making it more palatable for me, I've clung tighter. And the clinging isn't out of desperation, but out of a surrendered love for Christ. Phoebe broke me ...when no one else, nothing else could. She, my daughter, broke me. It is only in our brokenness that we can be made whole in Christ, in His love.
In no way do I want to romanticize suicide. Phoebe's suicide is NOT okay. It does NOT have any beautiful, sacrificial element to it. It was wrong ...the worst possible choice she could have made. In her impulsive act, she rejected God, she rejected us ...but ...she was in an extraordinarily dark place, and did not know what she was doing. I know that.
My point is ...that from the horror, the absurdity, the pain ...God makes things new. I've mentioned many times that above Phoebe when she died was a plaque. "All things work for the good of those who love Him." Romans 8. I saw that right away and clung to it, trusted Him from the very instant ...and I believe when we trust Him, He allows horrible things to work for the good. He allowed my daughter to challenge me, purify, solidify my faith ...stand firm with it in a culture that mocks His truth in every way possible, over and over. He took her life and made it an instrument to bring my soul closer to Him. And I still have a very, very long way to go. Always keeping my gaze fixed on my redeemer, I often see my girl skipping along beside me. Her challenge gives way to confirmation, her struggle gives way to assurance ...confidence ...certainty that He is all real, all loving ...all hers. When I stumble, she doesn't question ...she extends a hand, lifts me up ...and I see the familiar shaking of her hand "c'mon mom, let's go." Moving forward ...I'm moving forward with my favorite and eternal seventeen year old. No one could design such a way to bring me closer. Only God, the creator of all things ...could make "all things work for the good of those who love Him." ...even such a nightmare of losing Phoebe. I've said and thought many times the only thing that I want is to have Phoebe back. He has done that for me, for me, for now. Certainly not in the way I meant ...but in a way that is eternal.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
I believe God has blessed me deeply with a knowledge and assurance that Phoebe is indeed in Heaven. I hesitate to say that because I don't want to mislead or misconstrue what our faith teaches. Our culture, even those within the Church, tend to send people immediately to Heaven. But we know as Catholics that Christ taught us differently ...and most of us will go to Purgatory for a time, while others will end up in Hell. I know the notion of Hell isn't popular and that plenty suggest vehemently it does not exist ...but, it does. Not my opinion, just a fact. Christ spoke quite clearly about its existence and the reality of souls going there. I wrestled with where my Phoebe had gone ...I didn't assume anything, but certainly struggled with the not knowing ...But God is kind, and knows this mother's heart. He gave me peace.
So, we have attained our goal for our daughter. Why then, does that not settle the heart? It is a tough, tough thing to accept ...because I'm human, stubborn ...a mother. I want to call the shots. I never really could though with Phoebe. Always fiercely independent, there was a part of mothering her that was unattainable. Some kids are just like that ...and I don't know why?
One of my favorite books is A Prayer for Owen Meany. The life of Owen Meany comes down to one defining moment ...his purpose in this life was to accomplish a very specific goal. He does. I think most of us are meant for many different things. Some of us are the teachers ...our lives are largely meant to shape, lead, guide and form others. Some of us are meant to learn. Most of us are a mix of the two, crossing paths with others, learning and teaching ...showing each other the way. I've thought so much about Phoebe since she died. Truth be told, I've always thought quite a bit about her. Her life was so terribly short ...for what purpose? Could God have swooped in, surrounding her with angels, rescuing her from her darkest moment? Of course ...so why didn't He? For starters, no one respects our free will more than God. He lets us make our own choices ...even bad ones. I wonder though too ...what He knew would come from this ...could come from this horror. Did Phoebe, like Owen Meany, have a very particular goal to accomplish? And if yes, then what?
I could be wrong, but I'm beginning to see something emerge from the haze. No person challenged me more, asked me more questions, posed more contrary thoughts, looked me in the eye and made me swear I believed what I said I believed, than my own flesh and blood ...my Phoebe. She would come at me with kindness, pity, condescension, anger, mockery ...challenging every single aspect of my faith, my faith as a Roman, not American, but Roman Catholic. Sometimes the assault was covert, silly ...at times hostile. I cannot think of one area she did examine. For sure it was her way of examining, discovering her own faith ...figuring out what she actually believed. Often too tired to battle, I would mumble something, struggle to find words to make myself sound intelligent, well reasoned. Weary, I would often respond with "I just accept it Phoebe, and the more I do just that, the more it makes sense to me, the more understanding I seem to have."
Faith is the promise of things hoped for, the promise of things unseen. This reality is hard to grasp, can't be pinned down. Phoebe entered a world that needed to make sense on an individual level. That world doesn't ascend to the sense of God ...to His ultimate plan for all of us. How confusing that must have been for her. So headstrong, she resisted the hand holding that could have ushered her in with a smoother transition. Confident she could handle all of it, she forgot to ask for help, wouldn't admit she needed some. I wonder now if those challenges with me about my faith, were in fact a round about way of just saying "hey mom, this doesn't make any sense to me, can you help me figure it all out." Makes me so sad to think that now ...her fortress was impenetrable for most, if not all, of us.
It seems selfish to write this, but her struggle, her challenge ...her death, the unbearable nature and fact of her death ...all of it, solidified my faith, made me lean into God even more. Rather than reject my faith as a Catholic, even in little ways making it more palatable for me, I've clung tighter. And the clinging isn't out of desperation, but out of a surrendered love for Christ. Phoebe broke me ...when no one else, nothing else could. She, my daughter, broke me. It is only in our brokenness that we can be made whole in Christ, in His love.
In no way do I want to romanticize suicide. Phoebe's suicide is NOT okay. It does NOT have any beautiful, sacrificial element to it. It was wrong ...the worst possible choice she could have made. In her impulsive act, she rejected God, she rejected us ...but ...she was in an extraordinarily dark place, and did not know what she was doing. I know that.
My point is ...that from the horror, the absurdity, the pain ...God makes things new. I've mentioned many times that above Phoebe when she died was a plaque. "All things work for the good of those who love Him." Romans 8. I saw that right away and clung to it, trusted Him from the very instant ...and I believe when we trust Him, He allows horrible things to work for the good. He allowed my daughter to challenge me, purify, solidify my faith ...stand firm with it in a culture that mocks His truth in every way possible, over and over. He took her life and made it an instrument to bring my soul closer to Him. And I still have a very, very long way to go. Always keeping my gaze fixed on my redeemer, I often see my girl skipping along beside me. Her challenge gives way to confirmation, her struggle gives way to assurance ...confidence ...certainty that He is all real, all loving ...all hers. When I stumble, she doesn't question ...she extends a hand, lifts me up ...and I see the familiar shaking of her hand "c'mon mom, let's go." Moving forward ...I'm moving forward with my favorite and eternal seventeen year old. No one could design such a way to bring me closer. Only God, the creator of all things ...could make "all things work for the good of those who love Him." ...even such a nightmare of losing Phoebe. I've said and thought many times the only thing that I want is to have Phoebe back. He has done that for me, for me, for now. Certainly not in the way I meant ...but in a way that is eternal.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
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