I am not certain what to make of the week. I do think I'll be writing much less...here, that is. Things are changing all around me.So fast. That means I must change, too. Most of the people I came to serve are flying pretty well on their own now. It is comforting and yet sad. That silly part at the end of the Mary Poppins movie, where the two children stand by and watch her pack her bags. "Don't leave!" they say. She tells them, "I only planned to stay until the wind changed."
Another death this week. Of course there are deaths every day, every minute. But I speak of the ones that enter my life. I suppose my world is colored by what I encounter. Because I am tuned into the brokenness of people, I think they are tuned in to me. There is joy in it all, too...but this week is harder to sort out. The death over the weekend got to me, I think because the young man there was flying on autopilot. It was all so surreal for him, and I worked to get him to touch the real. Just enough for him to stay connected to the moment. Not much more than that. Our brains can handle only so much.
The other death, like every birth, was all so different. I seem to still be in touch with the woman's love. Within the short month that I knew her, I really got to know her. The last time we met, she covered me with kisses and whispered things in my ear that I really could hear but could feel. I told her to go to her husband of 70 some years. I told her it would be wonderful. She would be just fine.
As I left, I wondered what I would be like when that time came and if anyone would be there. I think one of my goals has always been that no person should die alone. There are enough of us to go around that we can all be midwives for each other as we are needed. It really is a holy time. And I think it should be shared.
Three of the women I will stay with tonight (those who stay with the nuns) are due to have their babies in a few days. I wonder, with all the death I have seen, if I will see life this night.
It occurs to me how serious I am about living. I reflect on my life and see great joy in it, but the events of the week have me wondering if I am too serious or intense about things. Yet, looking at Paul and the apostles, well they were pretty serious buds, too. Is that really the life I desire? Or perhaps I just have to live out the life I was destined to live.
Today, that life feels very heavy.
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I stopped writing because I thought I was being too morose. But I have had a chance to talk again with someone about what happened yesterday and I'm feeling a little bit better. I hope the people I spoke with or wrote yesterday have forgiven me for dumping on them...or perhaps no forgiveness is needed. Most of us are so ready to give to others, and few of us are willing to receive grace from someone else. Yesterday, I needed to receive grace. A lot of it.
Life is not as heavy as it was a couple of hours ago. That's how it works. Keep walking through the darkness, the swamps of sadness...don't dwell there unless you need to dwell there, but always keep your eye out for the light and find your way into it. Enter the Body of Christ and let it enter you.
I can logically work through just about anything. It was odd this morning, talking with my friend. She said what happened to me yesterday would have made her angry. I can't be angry about such things. I get angry about babies that are thrown away, most often out of ignorance, but I still get angry about it. But I can't get angry because someone doesn't particularly like me or want me around. To be a good evangelist, you really have to walk straight on through rejection, knowing that most of the time, another person's outrage or anger or meanness has nothing to do with you. Or perhaps you just put a little light on something they wanted to keep in the dark...good people do that to me all the time...they shine the light in places I cannot see and while I am initially ticked off, I am a better person for the 'confrontation' with myself. And no, I am not going to explain more just yet. But when you experience a strong emotion, whatever emotion it may be, pay attention to it. God it trying to teach you something. Don't waste the gift. Each time we die a little bit more to our ego, we grow closer and closer to our true self and to God.
Talking helped. Hearing a different point of view. Not always agreeing, but really listening. And making sure that you are heard.
Before Mass at St Marks, I stood by the statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe and kind of asked her to help me with clarity, to help me not feel hurt. And to help me know what I might really do, strange woman that I am...and I felt her really looking at me, which is odd, because on Tuesday, I felt she was looking off to the side...yeah, I'm certifiable...today she looked me in the eye. "Do not be afraid. It's all going to be fine. Why do you doubt? You're doing fine. Just wait." I moved my hands over the candles and felt the heat of all the prayers offered up before I got there and I turned around.
And way up the hill, I saw the priest, who perhaps had been watching me, and there was an energy, an understanding for a split second and I felt inside that he was somehow a part of that prayer. He understood and I suddenly felt very calm. Strange to have this feeling. That connection. And quite possibly didn't really happen at all. But is happened for me. And it was enough to not feel so alone.
The woman who died, her love was so deep. In her bed, barely still flesh and bone, so very weak, as I prayed with her, she reached her frail little hand out from under the prayer shawl and made the sign of the cross. We prayed. I gave her Communion. Do you want the whole thing? Can you take the whole thing? She nodded yes. And then she held onto my hand. I left the room to get her water. The I brushed her hair back with my hand. I did not want to leave her. I knew it would be very soon. That the wish she had to be with her husband would soon be granted. I remembered all the others I knew, and watched leaving this world. This woman, though, kept kissing me and saying thank you. No tears...often I see tears. She just kept giving. And I told her where she was going would be such a wonderful place, but I could tell she already knew that. She had seen it, too.
Lord I am not worthy of her kisses. Still I say thank you for them. When we bend into Him, he brings us all the things we need. I needed a mother's love and as I write this, I realize that was what He was giving me in her love.
Do you yet understand this Body of Christ? That the Incarnation goes far beyond the thirty three years He spent here on earth. The Incarnation continues through the love we offer one another, from birth to death. And beyond death. And before birth.
From today's reading of Hebrews:
But this is the covenant I will establish with the house of Israel
after those days, says the Lord:
I will put my laws in their minds
and I will write them upon their hearts.
I will be their God,
and they shall be my people.
And they shall not teach, each one his fellow citizen and kin, saying,
“Know the Lord,”
for all shall know me, from least to greatest.
For I will forgive their evildoing
and remember their sins no more.
When we love one another, we become part of the Incarnation. We dance with God. When the Law moves from our heads into our hearts, we will be fully human. When we forgive, we become fully divine...I know it's a stretch, but it feels that way.
Love, Cindy
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