when your friend tells you the truth

 

  It will get pretty ordinary here but bear with me. I have had the flu/cold/covid, who knows, since 12-26. Slight fever, terrible nose products, slight sore throat and last night, I coughed my left lung into my palm. Not really.

 A friend advised that I get some Mucinex to get the gunk out of my lungs. I knew that needed to be done. Then I thought, easy for you to say, healthy friend. I have been a princess taken care of for 57 years .I haven't left the house since Monday, I have little gas in my car,  my hair is dirty. BWAAAAAA. I CAN'T do it!!! I thought of friends, tried several delivery options, no go. BWAAAAA. I knew this friend was watching me on line so I found some big girl pants and they actually sold it to me out of the pharmacy drive up thanks to the clerk, Jessica, who made it happen. I told her I loved her on the phone. Do you  think she will appear in my kindness journal?

But here is the miracle, why write if not. As I was grumpily driving to CVS, my Friend took over my thinking. I can describe it no other way.

This is what I heard:

"At this time it appears you are weak and vulnerable but I don't want to think of yourself that way. You are My child . This is what I see:

...a youth wo grew up poor getting a Regents scholarship in a house filled with chaos. Determined to get a college degree.

--- a young lady graduating with a degree despite the chaos and a Father twice housed in a mental institution....

...despite growing up with alcoholic parents, and many relatives the same, through determination and My grace, you have never succumbed.

...who lost her fist child to miscarriage and endured the fear and sadness of that hospital trip.  

...a woman who at 70 years hiked 175 miles of the Camino in Spain.

...and after that started a writing group with no experience, just some ideas. That group has been a healing for many.

...a woman who has endured her greatest fear and not become bitter.

  I have left many out for brevity but share these. If you think I am bragging I am not doing a good enough job writing this story.(But did I tell you about the 11 and a half pound baby I had naturally?.)What I wrote has little to do with me and more with the Friend, the Lord, who has had my hand every step of the way.

As the words came flooding in I knew what was happening. Today was a test for me. I think I was given at least a year to live in fear and trembling as it is part of the process.(I am not the only one who breaks down in Kroger I am told.).But now it's time to remember who I am. I may fail, who knows, but what a profound gift to be hearing how I am seen by the One who loves us so.

"He is Kind, He is patient, slow to anger and rich in mercy."

I don't deserve this

   

Last June, John and I flew into the Albany, N.Y. airport for a visit to our beloved Catskills. A kindness happened as we deplaned and I heard the Spirit whisper :"why not keep track of those you see on this trip ?" That was the beginning. Now if I pick up my pen to journal, kindnesses jump in my lap like warm kittens and demand to be written about first. It's a habit.

 In a previous story I ranted about a person that did the wrong thing, for me at least. Here are some of those times when the exact right thing was done. Most know who they are.

...Two days after John passed, my family and I went to evening Mass. One dear lady crossed the church, knelt in the pew in front of me and said: "No words just I love you." We put our heads together and wept.

...the staff at our dentist office. They loved John. A lovely card, two calls from the receptionist. And when the office closed, they made sure we are Facebook friends so we can stay connected. The person who called went with the dentist to the new office and having her there when I have to go, heartens me.

...One of the friends in our writing group has left more than one creative package on my porch. She made a journal for my trip to Australia, a fruit cake and candle for Christmas. And for a year she has given me an open invitation. As I type this I realize it has taken me a whole year to accept. We have a date on Jan 11 for lunch and antiquing. What price for that friendship ? 

...John did the bills and although organized I had no idea the system. I needed folders and this angel dropped her life and got folders, labels and would take no payment. Just left them with me with a smile. She also took care of my plants when I went to Australia. She is appalled that I don't talk to them, she spoiled them all. They miss her. I throw her a kiss every Sunday at Mass and we smile. She has my back.

These are the ones like the kittens that insisted to be written today. There are so many more that I will write about. This is what the beatitude means that "they that mourn will be comforted." You will be comforted in ways you could never conceive because the hole is so deep and people, so kind.

And finally to John O'Donohue, the Irish poet and writer whose words I was given before John passed because there is no time and God knew that I would need to know this:

"We cannot see the dead, but because we cannot see them does not mean that they are not there...transfigured in an eternal form. In their new transfigured presence their compassion, understanding and love take on divine depth, enabling them to became secret angels, guiding and sheltering the unfolding of our destiny." 

I have lived to know the truth of this.

We will meet one day and I will thank John O in person where all things are perfect and the only language spoken is love.

the tough guy

  My hero was born into a large Irish Catholic family; he was the 7th child. His Mother was 40 when he arrived on Mother's Day and I think his parents may have been weary by then. I surmise that John tried very hard to find his place in that crowd and get some attention. He was the family clown . He was a good boy and I have a radio that was his as a young child; on it he scratched the words: "John is a fine boy". He wanted to be and he was.

Then came the teenage terrors and on a subway platform at 15 John turned his back on his true self to become a tough guy, his new persona. He searched for a long time for a good fit for who he was. Don't we all ? Church was out of the question for a tough guy.

Drifting into mid-life and unsure, an accident brought things to a head. Where am I going? What am I doing ? Choices. A Cursillo week-end, a jogging habit , focus on the family. A trip to Honduras with our youngest son after a devastating hurricane.

I have some words that he wrote in 2009. "I thought about the closeness to God (teenage and under) and the years of difficulty(20s) when moving away from God. The ins and outs, the turns, the coming closer and the moving away. Closer is better".

 In the years after, in the closer years, he led a group from our Church that took yearly mission trips to a Franciscan compound in Honduras. Doctors, nurses, dentists. And if ever it seemed like some praise might be coming his way, he was nowhere to be found. The leader role was a great fit.

 There is a plaque on the wall of a school in Ghana that he assisted in many ways. The last line reads : "He will be greatly missed."

And in all that serving he was a great father and role model to our four children.

John later found another niche assisting older people in our parish in a million ways. Playing chess, food shopping, doctors trips, just being with, finding new homes. One of the gentleman he helped eventually passed away and at the funeral his daughter was praising John for his selfless caring of her Dad. I found these words in my journal notes: 12-22-18" I told C. that John had given his heart to Christ." Three years later to the day, John left us. I just noticed that now as I type.

In 2006, as we were planning to run a retreat house in South Carolina, John wrote: "The Holy Spirit has been guiding my movements for a long time." Yes and the fine boy became a fine man.

 I wasn't going to go to Mass tonight, too cold, coming home in the dark. But on the way to church, this all came to me. I had no intention of writing something so personal but I know it was just another nudge. My John became God's. I know he is now giving all the praise to the One who turned his life around and made him exactly who He wanted him to be : His fine tough guy and mine.

Last Christmas

  Last year we celebrated Christmas early because a traveling son would be here . So the day of the 19th we gathered. If anyone noticed the strange things that were happening, no one said. It was only later that we compared notes. Did John really say that? 

 At one point he insisted that a picture be taken just of the six of us, no in laws, no children. It is a perfect picture with faces smiling that perhaps will never be so bright. After dinner when we were cleaning up, John said we will never be together for Christmas again. Some were shocked and asked if either of us had received a bad health report, most of us shrugged our shoulders, Dad being Dad. Then one of the grands was told that John would be her angel. Strange doings here.

 I was mid way through the Glorious mysteries of the rosary that night when my son came running in to tell me that Dad had collapsed. And so it began. In two days the love of my life, the blond haired, green eyed, gorgeous boy I met at 14, would be gone...

 And yet I am writing to assure you that he has not left us. There is not one of us that hasn't been touched in some way by John since then: in a dream, a knowing, a song, a synchronicity, in a vision, a nudge, a guidance. His form has changed, the means are different but he is here. With us. 

When I was going through John's memories folder I found the round medal above. I don't know how he received it, I had never seen it before. The word my pastor used when he called, the word that hangs around my neck now. It was left for me to find when I needed it most.

 

early Christmas gift..

 

                          

I have written before how present John has been to me in these hard days of 2022. How I have spent my time trying to find him in his letters, my journal notes and other friends memories. How I woke up one morning to the sound of his voice calling "Honey". None of these things did I look for or expect. In this blessed case I will not ask: Why me?" I will just accept with a full heart.

   When I returned from Australia my focus has been on Christmas, getting gifts and writing to the people who I have gotten cards from who don't know that John is gone. I thought I had put my journal searching behind me. Oh, you foolish griever. I even told a dear friend that I felt John had moved on and I might be too.

 The next day I was rummaging through some art supplies and saw a journal from 2003-4 that had notes from time spent wandering alone through the wetlands near here. Ah, some nature writing , no searching just enjoy the memories of those hours in Nature. 

 Before I go on let me tell you about Christmas 2018 when John and I found ourselves alone for the first time in 50 years, having celebrated the week before with the kids. John was not happy. The thought came that we should go to the river and sketch or write haiku. Picture John Wayne being asked to do this : "Well, little lady, that's the dumbest thing I ever heard." Happily John agreed and the day being perfect and sunny we went and sat on logs as the river flowed peacefully by. It turned out to be a lovely day together. John did a sketch that day and since last year I have looked for it in vain. Where is it? 

I sat quietly in my room and opened the journal of 2003 and as I paged along, in the back was a drawing dated 12-25-2018 with the initials JJG. You know I cried. A friend said that is John's gift to you for this Christmas and I know its true. I have it framed by my desk next to a pot of dried weeds that I picked on the way home that day. Thank you, dear man, for that and everything.

.

Watching and waiting

 

Last Christmas season my niece sent a large glass bowl with stones and a gnarled dry dead looking bulb , an amaryllis. I followed the directions and by Christmas, there were two tall stalks with bright red flowers. For awhile they looked like aliens coming up from nothing. Watching them shoot out of the stones gave me pleasure last year, the year of loss. 

Last year I was invited to give a day long Advent retreat for the staff at church. At the time, my mind was filled with looking for kindnesses and being open to those who have left us, what they might have to say from their place. Little did I know that as Advent ended, I would need to cling to both for dear life.

This year, I received another box with two bulbs and a message that said: Thinking of you at this difficult time." My precious niece will never know how this touched me. I have three bulbs now in my kitchen, the old one and the two new that are lighter colored the box says, all waiting for the warmth of the sun. 

Kindness.

The watching and waiting on the bulbs to bloom reminded me of this season. What do these four weeks of Advent hold for me ? Why have I always loved them? Why did the love of my life leave during this season ?

I do know this: companions always come. This year St Teresa of Avila elbowed her way into my life through an offering at St Brigid's Church  in Australia where I visited my family. It was based on Teresa's sayings and the music of U2. What ? I attended two sessions and it was good to be with like minded new friends.

So far what I have learned from Teresa that holds the most meaning was inscribed for me on a birthday card from John in 2016. "Let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you, everything passes away , God alone remains."  

And this: " If one perseveres, I trust then in the mercy of God, who never fails to repay anyone who has taken Him for a friend." 

My God, my friend, thank you.