a day surrounded by light

Some days in the calendar are surrounded by light.August 15th is such a day.The Catholic Church holds that Mary was assumed into heaven on this date and never faced the corruption that human bodies endure.This day is set aside by the Church to honor her special role in salvation history.

My Mother passed from this life on that day in 1996 after having pneumonia.I had been told by my sister that she was recovering.I assume this is a painless death and one that takes many at her golden age of 83 but still it was a shock.Her funeral was a disappointment.So few people there .She had moved away from her Long Island home and few knew her in Connecticut.One cousin came, my sister,brother-in-law,many nieces and my children and husband.This is all that filed into the first few pews.But after the Mass, a group of ladies from the church said the rosary together and I felt such comfort.Strangers saying good-bye with prayer.The Body of Christ.

And now in 2012, on this shimmering ,shining ,light filled day, a new granddaughter entered our world.A delicate, beautiful girl with tiny nose and fingers and long black hair that asks for a pink bow.We saw her last night and most reluctantly ,I left her.I could have stared all night.

She,the little sprite, whose healthy birth was so in question.This little being whose ancestors prayed for her and desperately wanted her here,as I saw in a vision.She is here,ancient ones,and so beautiful.

I wouldn't have written this indulgence had it not been for an e-mail I received today.I have a writer friend who means so much to me.She isn't Catholic but she knows Mary and loves her.She recently has struggled to get a book published.I cannot imagine the work and frustration. She wrote:"I was so  discouraged,dis-couraged ,until Assumption Day.... as always,our Blessed One saved me again......she never rejects anyone.... and so I felt calm when I thought of her. Ave Maria."

through the crease

picture by Kris

Today, my husband and I went on our weekly date.Mexican food in a clean,quiet place in the next town over and then to Goodwill for books at a dollar each.Stop me!!

"When is human nature so weak as in a bookstore ?"Henry Ward Beecher."When the books are used and a dollar each."Sharon Graham.

As I filled my cart with  tomes by Somerset Maugham,Paul Tillich and two others,a woman approached my husband and I heard her ask for money so she could buy the big black leather tote in her hand that she would use to carry her Bibles.He declined and I followed him to the next aisle and asked to borrow a dollar to give her as my purse was home.He relented and I went back,patted her bag and told her to enjoy her find.She hugged me,blessed me and joyfully went on her way.With a frown, he later told me that he saw her asking others for money.Did she need more for the bag or was it all a scam?Did she indeed have Bibles that she wanted to carry and give away as part of what God was asking of her?Who knows.But this I do know: what he was asking of me.

The other day,my young friend Kris, posted on Facebook about an incident in a store in Atlanta.A woman in her eighties came in,looking very upset and frassled asking for driving directions to Clairmont Road.Kris'
first thought was: she shouldn't be driving.But then she stepped through the crease in the universe and told the woman to follow her as she would lead her there in her car.When you have slipped through the crease,the air is bright ,glittering silver.You have gone to a place beyond intellect and flesh,a realm of spirit.And the spirit responds with joy so much so that you have to share it on Facebook.

This is why Scripture says:"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."It's for you....to show you what the crease is like......

I gave Kris an angel a while back.It sits on her bookcase in her bright living room.She's had it long enough that she doesn't notice it anymore but this day,she saw it again.Was that smile new?

the island

When you step off the small boat onto the windswept island,you remove your shoes.You will stay unshod for the three days that you are there and as I type this,I can't know what that will mean.I like the security of my shoes and was never one to frolic in the green grass all summer with bare feet.That is the first requirement but there are others as daunting.

No cameras,phones,PCs or radios.No sleep for the first 24 hours and alot of communal praying.Fasting is the norm and once a day you get a piece of bread and black tea.This is retreat on the island of Lough Derg,in Northern Ireland.The island itself is only two acres in the middle of a lake with the remnants of monk's beehive cells called"beds" and a basilica.A retreatant spends time in prayer at ,in and around these cells.For more than a  thousand years pilgrims have been doing this including St.Patrick, so we are told.

The point is to remove yourself from the world and distractions and turn your mind toward God.How hard would that be if one was hungry,sleepy and foot sore?I once stayed up all night at a slumber party at Bernadette Myers house in Hempstead.I was 15 and the next day, I could hardly crawl through the front door and to bed.

But here's the thing:I don't know how I know about this strange,desolate island in the first place.It's booked as one of my Favorites but how did I come to know about their site?The other day a brochure came from Ignatius press and the first several books offered were very wallet friendly.There it was again:a book about Lough Derg for 3 dollars.It came today and is quite wonderful to read.

Have you ever just known that you were to go to a particular place?

"The wind holds no terror,the sun need not shine,
alone,with no shield
no make-up,no mask.

underfoot energy is loose,
just my bare wispy soul
in the cavern within,

seeking with old hands in the
damp,empty cave:
the Candle."

s.g.

Gabby,Bob Costas and me

I don't know how some people can write every day.Maybe they are real writers.The creative,poetic part of my soul has been crusted over by burnt creme brulee and nothing is stirring.The field lies fallow with brown stalks instead of rich yellowing corn.The crows don't even come by because they know there is no seed.Dormant,stagnant water and the rocks that usually shine underwater with green and cooper colors are dried in the sun and grey.

My elderly soul has experienced these times before.I flail looking for a reason: am I staying up too late,watching the Olympic Games?Has the hiking in 95 degrees drained me ?Has the terrible rancor that I see in this country where different views are greeted with name-calling finally done me in? Always,always comes a light bringer, so I am patient and wait....

Late last night,Bob Costas said something that really made me wince.The All Around Gold Medal in Women's Gymnastics went to Gabby Douglas who left her family in Virginia at the age of 14 to go to Iowa to get the best training for her sport.In that state, a family with a passel of kids, took her in,sat her at their table and made her their own.Both families were watching her excel last night.

As the show was winding down,Bob made this observation; that she was the first African-American to win that title and now other little African-American girls could strive to do the same.Really?Any American girl could strive after what she had done.I thought we were beyond this.It never occured to me that she might be the first anything.

Maybe I'm too sensitive.Maybe that bothered no other person watching.Sue me.

Perhaps Bob could have talked about this:when Gabby was interviewed after her win she said:"When I honor God ,the blessings fall down on me."Thank you,sixteen year old for shining the light to lead me home.

birthday memories

I remember being eleven with scrapped knees and two front teeth too big for my face.I remember my 10th Birthday when the relatives came and we celebrated in the back yard with the heat of July tempered by the huge maples around my house.My mother had fallen down the cellar steps,her shoe caught on a metal lip, and she made me promise not to tell the family.I never knew why but it so scared me.

Wanting to be a grown up,I yearned for thirteen and recall short hair and my first love.This time of my life was filled with unknown yearnings and mysterious feelings.If I shut my eyes,I can almost see myself and wonder at the fullness my heart.Singing ,always singing from this full heart.

When I turned seventeen, the neighborhood boys ,who were friends from diapers or for just a few years,planned a surprise party for me at the local park on Long Island, with handmade,funny cards and plastic jewelry as offerings.I still have these things.

Then later, a Harry Belafonte concert at Chastain.We sang Da-O ,the banana boat song, and Harry said,"only women over forty sing."Dead silence.It was my 40th birthday and I was stunned at how little I wanted to be that and acknowledge it.The one thing out of my control.How awful.

Another one, many years later,the gift of a cruise up the Hudson River with my husband by a childhood friend and her husband ,then dinner after at a Kingston Chinese Restaurant.That glorious river which has framed the story of the state of my birth and my own story ,always.Every summer,over the Hudson on the Tappen Zee Bridge to the Catskills.And if that weren't enough,an e-card from a much loved childhood friend who had made my heart sing.

I love Birthdays and this one is no different.My husband and I are going hiking and then Thai dinner and we will share my day as we have for 47 years and my heart is full and singing.

an appreciation

Last week, we travelled to Butler,Pennsylvania to visit a much loved relative.Then we headed to Penn State, to stay with our youngest son for two days.Until now, I had not seen where he lives as he does post doctoral work for that sad university. 

On the second day of our visit,he took us to Bear Meadows National Natural Landmark ,which is seven miles south of the Penn State campus.These 890 acres of boreal forest are unusual in tree and animal species and so we set off to hike the four miles around the bog.

Our different focuses were interesting.Sean tried mightily to point out bird species that we wouldn't see in Georgia and he hunted for herps;salamanders and snakes.I tra-la-laed around in amazement at the number of mountain laurel and some still blooming in dainty pink and stark white.The butterflies,bumble bees and I enjoyed these blooms,so late in July.My poor husband spent considerable time lamenting the mosquitoes feasting on his hatless head.

We did see the black throated blue warbler dressed in his magnificent tux and headed for a date and a cute pickerel frog who posed for many shots of his lovely self.But the best was yet to come.When we had almost completed the hike,and I was chatting idly with some thistle,my son called me over.There she was; a sunning timber rattler.What a beautifully marked snake with her black eyes and head turned slightly to watch us.I had never seen one in the wild and I couldn't take my eyes off her.Her rattle was there but silent until my son went closer for a picture.Then the rattle,sounding like summer locusts, started up. This is what she was saying:"O.K. you are too close now.I have no intention of harming you but I can and will protect myself, so it's time for you to keep walking.I am courteous enough to give a warning ."Quite a conversation!We and she moved on.

When we took our youngest son home the day after his birth at 9 lbs.13 ou.,he was a blank slate.If I had thought of the gene pool that he came from,the people of Wales,Scotland ,England and Ireland, I could have made some guesses that he would have auburn hair and tend to freckles.The Celts are great story tellers and he is writing a book.These islanders also revere and engage Nature in their lives and Art and so he has.But still when a child is born, what can we hope to know about what they will become ?

My grandparents never studied past the third grade.Their great-grandson has a doctorate in yes, biology, and he did it this monumental thing all on his own.His passion for this subject will lead  him to uncover important knowledge and he will share this with his world.He does that now, in published articles.

Just before we finished our hike,we came to a clearing and my son said that he always stops here to look over the bog and the trees.I wondered what he was thinking as he gazed in silence and I have to think that they were thoughts of deep gratitude.I stood behind, looking at him and feeling the same.

pilgrimage

For several years, my husband and I have been thinking of hiking the Camino de Santiago de Compsotela,the pilgrim path from France to the Cathedral of St.James in Santiago,Spain.The recent movie with Martin Sheen,"The Way" seems to have sealed the deal for both of us.In 2013,we hope to join the millions who have trod this path over the centuries.

A pilgrimage is not a trip or a vacation,rather a journey made to a shrine or holy place.The purpose is not fun but holiness.The idea of pilgrimage has been wandering around in my mind for days.I really don't need to go to Spain for a pilgrimage because I am on one now,aren't I?

As I jogged in the neighborhood today ,this scene unfolded in my soul:

.....angels are in that deep silent ,far out place in the Universe as they scoop up a handful of shimmering Gold Light from among the shining stars.They laugh among themselves as flesh is slowly formed in a perfect way around the gold ball.When the being is formed and about to come into the world, one special angel whispers into the ear:"You are going to a sometimes stunningly beautiful world but this is not your home.You are on a pilgrimage and you must find your way back to the Light of which you are made.How you will know that the earth is not your home,rests in the discontentment that you feel with most of what you encounter.It will never be perfect.You will ,however,know moments of peace and great joy once you have awakened to the knowledge that you are on pilgrimage and everything on earth is transitory."

"As you trail bright stars from the back of your robe, live and foster the greeness around you,and shine a golden light from your eyes and fingertips,others will awaken to the pilgrimage and climb on the road with you.This is part of journey."

On the Camino, when hikers pass each other or pass townspeople, the usual greeting is Buen Camino,or a good camino walk to you.I  thought of this when I encountered a neighbor who was out walking this morning.She is a lovely woman who in the last five years has battled colon cancer and lost her husband of many years.She called out "great job" as I jogged by and I smiled.Isn't that the same as the Camino pilgrims ?Encouragement for the journey,a trailing of stars.