Little Girl Alone

Who is she?

Could she read?

She looks so sad, so innocent, so alone.

And so very beautiful. 

I want to rescue her from her beauty.

Take her home and sing her to sleep. 
I want to teach her to read.

Give her a reason to smile.

Set her free. 

I wrote those words under the picture last night, feeling frustrated. I was not certain why it mattered that I write about her then.  Now I know a bit more. I don't know hwo to write this, I don't know if I can write it...but it's important.  If it is important to me, it must be to someone else. Perhaps it is why I did the strange thing on the retreat, the Stations of the Cross in a particular manner.  I was trying to remember somthing...and there what seemed like a thousand images given to me over this week, each one a miracle. Jesus was telling me, "It's time to put the pieces together. It's time to connect the dots. I think you are finally ready, Cindy." 

A couple of years ago, I had my house blessed by a priest. My son said he was coming in town, so I cleaned things up a bit (I am quite messy) and then he called to say that something had come up.  I was to receive the Prayer Chalice from the Church that week, so I thought perhaps I would get the house blessed. I could not bring a holy thing into my house without making my house more welcome to it.

The priest agreed to come on Sunday.  As Sunday arrived, I got nervous and invited a friend to be present. A witness to what was happening.  Still very nervous, I escorted him through the house. He blessed all the rooms.  When we got to my bedroom, he stood still, as if surprised.

I suppose all good Catholics have a crucifix above their bed.  I have the picture of a little girl.  A copy of a painting, just like the picture of the little girl on the top of this page.  She was all alone.  Suddenly I felt almost embarrassed about the picture. I explained her to the priest. "She is me. When I got divorced and I bought this house, I found her and just knew.  She is me." And we continued to walk through the house and complete the blessing.

I thought, maybe, finally, I'll get to be a real girl.

Since then, I have shared that story with a few people, one of them, who listens well, heard another story.  A story about a beautiful picture of Jesus with the little Children.  This picture is called "Suffer the Little Children to Come Unto Me." 

She heard the second story, about the picture above my bed. This was the picture that hung over my bed when I was a little girl.  I would kneel on my pillow, hold on the headboard and just stare at it.  All these children getting to be close to Jesus!  How lucky they were...and I would imagine myself as one of them, crawling on his lap, hugging his knees, wlkaing with Mary up the hill to see Him...

Then one day, the picture was gone. I don't remember why, I just knew it was gone. I think my mother was redecorating, which she liked to do very often. It was always a surprise. The fact that I slept there did not seem to matter to her. But I never complained.

She knew about the little girl, and so one everning after RCIA, she and her husband presented me with this beautiful picture...what I would call life size...and I wept deeply, in the church parking lot, not believing for a single moment that anyone could or would ever love me this much. I cannot remember ever crying so much from happiness before.  I felt naked and exhausted.

She said to me, "Take the little girl down now and put this above your bed."  I was incapable of even nodding.

I brought it home and it was much too big for above my bed. My ceiling was too low, the headboard was too high. I hung it on the east wall, so that I would see it along with the dawn each morning.  It has brought me great joy and peace, not just in having the picture back...but in the manner in which it was given. 

So the little girl stayed above my bed. I could not take her down. Sixteen years she has been there.

I reflect on the last week. It seemed to begin with a woman holding my hand.  In fact, I'll write it was the mother of the priest who blessed my house who held my hand. She held it for a very long time. We talked about many things, and she just kept holding my hand. It was odd to me...again...one of those things that I am used to doing for others but I am definitely not used to people doing for me. Without saying anything, she let me know she cared...really cared...or perhaps she needed me?  Who really knows? The why doesn't really matter. But I received a gift. I hope I gave one. 

That set the tone for the week. Women. The week was all about women for me. Ones who like me, ones who don't like me. Ones I would approval from.  Ones I admire. Ones who I watch...who love well...and those who don't love well...women who are young and old. Women who are dying.  And the women children they leave behind.  Seems like so many now. I would like to write about each one, but I can't right now.  The alarm just went off and I'll be going to Mass soon. 

But they are there: the one who gingerly held her mother close to her during Mass yesterday...I remember watching her wash her mother's feet during a Last Supper event a few years ago.  I sat next to her, and my heart bled with a desire to have had the chance to know that kind of love while my mother was still alive.

And there so many more...perhaps I will add later. All week long, God has been pushing me, gently pushing me, into yet another truth.

"It's time, Cindy," He tells me, "Let her in."
"Who, Lord?" 
"My Mother. Mary. It's time."
"I am afraid."
"She was once, too, you know."
"Yes, I know."
Silence.
He says, "That's because you both are already one.
She is in you and you are in her. That's how love works.
Now you must see the truth.
Let her love you
as you have let Me love you."
I close my eyes and see the women:
Jessica, Joelle, Launa,
Veronica, Kathy, Pam,
Maria, Amanda, Martha,
Sandy, Mary, Elsie,
Bella, Zoe, Diana,
Kelly...Jackie...so many others...
and Aunt Dell, who died on the Feast of the Annunciation.

I have been told today, by God, in my heart...that my little girl will not be alone anymore. Mary has come to us, to show us how to love more and better. And it is time to change the picture. 

You think you are alone, but you never are. It just feels that way when things get hard.  It's not that it's going to necessarily get easier, you know...but here and now, it is time to realize you are not going to have to do it alone anymore.

Love is here. In the form of men and women who have heard and said "Yes. Let the impossible be done unto me, according to His Holy Will."

Say Yes to the impossible today. Let love in, so that you can give it away.

Love, Cindy