There are several reasons why I am always in a church. A few days ago, Deacon Jack read the gospel about Anna, the prophetess. I had to laugh a bit inside about how God rings little bells in my heart with things that connect. On FB I played with one of those silly MC questionnaires and it said my name should be "Annie." Annie indeed. One thing I regret deeply is not listening better to my biological mother the one and only time we sat together in the DFW airport. She told me what she wanted to name me and I don't remember what she said. The only recording of her voice I have does not tell me it either. Sigh. I think is was either Carol or Catherine. I remember a C.
Don't let the important moments get away from you.
I am 'on call' for the hospital on Saturdays and I went to Marilyn, to see if she could help me switch my phone to vibrate. She played with it and I felt better because she couldn't figure it out either, BUT in the conversation, she told me that she had a machine at home that could take records and cassettes and convert them into MP3 files...I told her that I had a cassette of my biological mother that was now 24 years old and I really wanted it on CD. So she put it on CD for me. My mother's voice. What she wanted me to know before she died. It was found on the coffee table after they found her. She died by her own hand. She shot herself. It took me a long time to figure things out for myself. I didn't figure out it was a suicide for about five years. Some questions you just don't want to ask. But in 1989, I got the courage to ask. Just like I finally got the courage to ask if I had been adopted.
If you ask the question, you have to be willing to accept the answer.
But I digress again. Marilyn giving me the CD of my mother's voice was the greatest Christmas/birthday gift I could have ever received. I love her so much. I had her for seven days. The first seven days of my life and on Christmas Eve, she left me and did not see me again until I was 28 years old. God saw fit for our eyes to meet for one more time.
Didn't know I was going to that. I wonder if I can ever write enough so that I'll stop writing about her. But she had two requests of my new parents before she gave me away: that I be raised Catholic and that I be given a piano.
And it is all connected. It was when I returned to my study of piano that my life began to take drastic turns. As I played and grew in my abilities, I began to see that there was something beautiful inside me that was crying to get out. One day, I played the Brahms in the Choir Room at CCCC and when I finished, I knew I had done a perfect thing. The notes came out just as I heard them in my head...and I glanced out the window and saw three or four professors leaning over the railing upstairs and looking in the window.
Not only had I done something perfect, I had witnesses.
And it was almost too much to bear.
When a baby is born, at least for me, I looked at these little creations that came forth from my body and just marveled at their beauty. Beth was particularly perfect in every way. I saw immediately she was bright and beautiful. Thinking that someone wanted me to end her life before it began...how could I have ever even listened to such a request? This child was a perfect miracle and I got to be part of it. Why God would give me such a gift, it was almost too much to bear.
Beauty, perfection, goodness...sometimes when you really think about it...it is almost as difficult to bear as great sadness and loss. I think somewhere inside, we realize that both are gifts. The joy and the pain. They are part of this thing we call being human. They are part of our great song that we sing back to God while we are here.
Sometimes a waltz or a dirge, sometimes polonaise, or a ballade...or an impromptu piece...or a ditty...or maybe a great requiem...but all are songs to God. They are our prayers shaken and stirred into a song. Yesterday it was a quilt. Today it is a song.
But it is perfect. And that is hard to handle. Think about it. What happens to us when we encounter perfection? Really encounter perfection. Perfection is only found in God, so when recognize perfection, we are recognizing God in our midst. And that can and should slay us in our tracks.
And when we finally get up off the ground, knowing that we have encountered God, I think we should seek a way to tell the world all about it. Any real gift of perfection is not really private. It is for all of us. Some will see and some will not. Some will hear and some will not. Some will just show us their backs. It's part of the deal.
But we should sing out anyway.
I'm stopping here.
Love,
Cindy
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