Persephone

Persephone and Mellville.
I think that would sum up my Lent.
"from hell's heart I stab at thee..."
A few days ago, I told the priest I came to confession because I knew I had to forgive God for what He allowed to happen.  I was told I was on shaky theological ground. Really? 
If from the point of view of understanding God, yes, that is correct.
From the point of view of someone who is suffering or greiving, I stand on solid theological ground. To get pissed at God means I still have a relationship with Him. I still expect to have a relationship with Him. I am working toward a relationship with Him.  And I was (and probably still am) pissed.
I don't mind so much that, as I am healing in my heart, trying to open it to love again, I am somewhat struck down with some serious physical problems. I don't mind that. But to look at my children hurting because their father, who lived too far away and was perhaps much too involved with only himself, has died...that pisses me off.
I have always spoken with confidence that God answers all of my prayers.
He is well aware that I did not like this answer.My children need that relationship, which is now impossible to have.  And I am pissed (I've used that word three times and yes, I know what it means. It means I am angry).
Funny, as I have tried to compose the thoughts to follow that last one, I realize that I was somewhat successful. While my kids did not have the storybook relationship with their father, as I continually tried to make happen...they definitely had more than I ever had. That perhaps should calm me dow
Grief work is strange.

But it's not just Mellville and Moby Dick...it is also Persephone.

It's been over a month since Bob died. I went to two doctors this week. Got news that I should get a sonogram and biopsy. A woman my age should not be still preparing her body to bear children, she said.  We need to fix that now.  And I said, "I like that part of my life. What about Sarah? and she laughed and said "That's in the Bible." (Obviously doesn't take things quite as seriously as I do)

So she want to fry my body parts so I won't lose blood and get too weak again. Of course, she said, "We have to rule out cancer."  Argh...just go away...if God wants me, He can have me. I am not afraid to die.  I am, however, quite honestly, afraid of suffering. I own that. You'd be a bit off if you chose to suffer. And yet...it is a gift...to suffer.

And that brings me to Persephone. Without really paying attention too much, the vernal exquinox arrived three days ago.  Persephone was let out of her prison to bring back spring to the earth.  I knew what God called me to do. As I was lowering my garage door (Still broken after the power surge in January), a snowflake caught my eye. And I knew what had been tugging on me for a week really had to happen. I didn't know why, but I knew that if I did not make my pilgrimmage, I would not return from winter this year.
So I humbled myself, somewhat unwillingly, and said, "God I give this to you. I give all of this to you." And I took on my task...and asked why about a thousand times. As I took each step through what I had to do, I did not feel better...well, better enough...I always want more.  Anyone who knows me, knows I am always hungry for...everything. More books, more music, more food, more love...it just doesn't end with me. But I did what I needed. I walked through each step. 
I walked into one building.  The children were rehearsing for a musical: Annie. I looked at the stage and remembered that which I never knew. I watched the kids giggling and acting silly, singing "The sun 'ill come out...tomorrrow." And I smiled at God..."jerk! You expect me to fall for that one?" and I laughed, because love is always playful.  Had he not been playful, I probably would not have listened. Then I went and found myself a beautiful upright Yamaha...and it was exquisite to play.  I sat in the music theory room...and remembered how hard it was for me to hear inverted chords...and that was why I stopped studying music.  That and the general belief about myself that I could never do anything beautiful. But that was so long ago...

I came out into the bright sun and wished I had not worn the black turtleneck.  I walked back to the car, still not understanding anything of what was happening. Yes, there were more things, but I leave them out, some things have to wait. I looked at the clock tower, the library, the observatory, the jet.  I understood more, but I didn't cry. I thought, I"m done. I'm letting it go. It's goodbye. That life is over. New life coming. But it was clear my heart was not growing soft from the experience, it was growing colder. That's how you deal with things, I told myself, you stop feeling. Mr Spock told me that. His race survived because they shut down all emotion. I've done it before and I can do it again.

I lied. I sat in my confusion and pain all afternoon. And then, because of the love of others, I came out of the cave...as I knew I would. I had gone to the medicine man and I was back in love with the One who brought me out of darkness before. She said my stress level was extremely high and hesitated on giving me the prescription for sleeping pills. I assured her I just needed sleep. I knew I was not thinking clearly. God told me what to do...and as much as I hated it, I did it. But I still didn't understand.

Then, at the Stations of the Cross, my first night to go this Lent...it hit me like lightning. All my whining and self-pity was revealed to me for what it was. I do have a right to feel my feelings, yes...but I also suddenly understood everything...and I felt ashamed of my own anger...and blessed. How could I have forgotten? What greater gift is there than perfect love? I finally felt it again. The bond between mother and son. I had felt it more than once this week. In spite of everything...in spite of the fact that not a single thing seemed to be going right...it was clear that everything was going to be alright.  And I wept like a baby and got snot all over my friend's shawl. She was smart. She didn't ask me a single question. She just held me...and she smiled and said, "It's about time."

Persephone had risen from hell and returned to bring in the spring.

I can be such a fool.

Love, Cindy