signs and wonders

 I

 I have written before about the time I spent on a gurney waiting for my first colonoscopy. Alone and scared I felt something laying by my side fitting perfectly. It was my deceased dog, Cooper. I was comforted and told no one. Surely I conjured. That is until I went on Facebook later that day and found my dog's picture taken 5 years before, and by happenstance, posted that day.

The nudges and signs that say that my beloved husband is still with us have been written about here. And it amazes me that this Advent when I was leading a group at church, one of the points I was trying to make was from something John O'Donohue wrote about: 

"....though the deceased cannot reappear, they continue to be near us and part of the healing of grief is the refinement of our hearts whereby we come to sense their loving nearness. When we ourselves enter the eternal world and come to see our lives on earth in full view, we may be surprised at the immense support with which our departed loved ones have accompanied every moment of our lives." Little did I know the comfort those words would bring me. Was I brought to this understanding by chance?

 I'm pretty sure that the nuns told us not to look for signs and I haven't. They just seem to fall from the sky. I have a dear niece that lost her Mother recently, John's sister. She does ask for signs when missing her family. Today she asked for a sign from John, her uncle, and an hour later while walking her dog she met another lady, unknown to her, walking her dog. They chatted and Aileen asked the dog's name. Cooper.

You may dismiss this as co-incidence, I will allow it except for this. A friend texted me from Florida today and showed me the bookstore she was in. We are both book freaks. I asked her to tell me what she bought. A half hour later, I saw that her new book was one I knew well, "A Walk Across America" by Peter Jenkins. Odd that. I fell in love with that book years ago and the dog who walked by the author's side stole my heart. So I named my precious puppy after him. Can you guess? 

"In their new, transfigured presence their compassion, understanding and love take on a divine depth, enabling them to become secret angels guiding and sheltering the unfolding of our destiny." John O'Donohue. 

what gets me through..

The most surprising things are getting me through this hard time. I am grateful.

On December 4th, John came home and had a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. They were rust colored chrysanthemums and I must admit my enthusiasm was tempered. Those are Fall flowers I thought as if that mattered. 

In the coming days ,I noticed the water had run out but the colors stayed. If you have read my John stories you know that my need to hold onto him has been vast and now I still had those flowers to keep. Joy, just joy. Then my daughter brought flowers and I started to hang them to dry. A friend brought tulips and believe it or not, the petals dried. They are red and yellow in a small glass bowl. I have a whole window of color from this sweet little hobby that has comforted.

The orchid gifts need tending: yellow, white, purple and blue. Who knew that learning about their care would bring solace. The pale purple one from John, my gift for Christmas, still has all its flowers. Of course it does. 

Then there are the hearts connected to mine: sons, a daughter. Their Dad is beaming at how they have done exactly what he would have hoped. The texts and calls and presence as I get used to this empty, empty house.

And those who have prayed and had no idea why, like a distant member of our writing group. Morag, who lives in South Africa. "For some unknown reason I have been praying for you. As I didn't know what to pray for I was committing you into His caring hands." Her wonderful words.

Sitting with two books that contain the photos of Thomas Merton has soothed. Remembering a day at his monastery at Gethsemane where we met a monk and watched the children tumble down a bare hill with such glee.

I found this in my Celtic Daily Prayer Book. 

"The Angel of the poor gave my father two valuable pearls:

man's mission is to be a brother ; God's wealth is the invisible world." 

For those who have treated me like a beloved sister and for those who dwell in the invisible world, I love you.

Guilt and regret-postcard 8

 

One of the stages of grief is regret and guilt. What could I have done differently so this would not have happened? .Was I at all kind that terrible day when the love of my life left us ?I can't describe the weight of those thoughts that were like boulders pressing down on me. In hopeless despair I turned to Mary and said these words; "Help me, I can't bear this." 

I had ignored Mary for years and then the dreams started. Not often but enough to get my attention. I can see myself now in this dream of a few years back. I am standing on a corner in the rain at night and everyone has left me. I have no idea where I am .I see a flashing sign for Corky's Bar, the only place open, and I went in. I said to the bartender: "where is this?". He replied and gave a street name. I said: " No, you don't understand, I have no idea where I am, period." He said: "Staten Island, N.Y and if you need help just go down the road to Stella Maris High School. They will assist you there" Off I went to the building by the sea and then I woke up.

It was not lost on me that Stella Maris is a title for Mary who as our guide is the Star of the Sea. Mary was slowly leading me into her arms.

This December, when I made that plea for help, I was answered immediately in this way. A scene from the 80s came to mind when I was facing a challenge of great import. My response had been one of great patience and love and it had made all the difference to our souls and to our family. I was being told to focus on this and to let the small insignificant things drift away. The burden lifted.

This is from Bernard of Clairvaux:

"O you, whoever you are, who feel that in the tidal wave of this world you are nearer to being tossed about among the squalls and gales rather then treading on dry land....gaze up at this Star ,call out to Mary.......when you begin to founder in the gulf of sadness and despair ,think of Mary, call out to Mary...Keep her in your heart,... Follow the example of her life and you will obtain the favor of her prayer.. Follow her and you will never go astray.. Asking her help, you will never despair. With your hand in hers, you will never stumble.. With her protecting you, you will not be afraid. Her kindness will see you through to the end." 

So, here I am , again having no idea where I am.  I know this: today, a book I have had for awhile was taken off the shelf and, as I absent mindedly scrolled through, there was Bernard waiting to explain who Mary is and what she had done for me in stark, compelling and beautiful words.

Mary , Queen of the angels , pray for us..

the mean streets of Las Vegas

  The man on the sidewalk is almost completely covered by a threadbare quilt wrapped around his body. Underneath is a piece of cardboard, his mattress. It is Las Vegas, the city of dreams and this man's current address is a cement strip outside a hotel. One can't tell his age but can see his matted dark hair and his battered shoes. How did he get here and who really cares? 

A handsome,  happy couple are walking away from the place where they just lost a bit of cash at Blackjack. That's what one does in Vegas. The tall man wisely hung onto a bit and he fingers a twenty in his pocket as they stroll together laughing and enjoying time away. What possessed the man then, upon seeing our sidewalk dweller,  to go to him, tap his shoulder and give him the twenty? And then say these words: "You matter. " The bleary eyed man looked up and with knitted brow says this: " I matter?" "Me,?. "He grasps the tall man's hand and holds it tightly as eternity passes between them. 

As I pondered this story, my mind drifts back to a moment in our back yard when we were watching our sweet red headed grandson.. He was sitting on a log and opening his snack of Teddy Grahams. As soon as he had the bag opened, he handed his Grandpa two and me two and then ate his treat. John said: " I think I'll like being a Grandpa." And then I think of going with him to a thrift store when he was 12 or so. His siblings couldn't go because they had homework. As we drifted around he declared that we had to buy his sister and brother something. His sister, who at the time wanted to be a mermaid, got a necklace with a shark's tooth.

His was the arm I hung onto when my husband's ashes were being lowered into the Georgia soil, He, in his Navy uniform holding Grandma up.

I wonder  if our homeless street sleeper started to repeat that message in his mind. "You matter, By God, son, you matter." Could that mantra not change a life if believed and lived? God spoke in Vegas that night and he used the father of the sailor to deliver the message for Him and to all of us. We matter. Oh yes, we matter.