Life is….
My mother and my mother-in-law are visiting. How blessed are we. Two elder woman. 85 and 98 years old. What a cauldron of wisdom. I sit in their company and open myself to their stories So many decades. So much life. So much suffering. So much resilience. From whence come so much life force? I feel honoured to join them.
My mother and I went to Church today. That little stone Church in our concession was our destination. Alas. The furnace was not working. Again. It was cold. Snow belt West Grey cold. Even the holy water was frozen. I worried for my mother. Should we stay? Should we retreat to warmth? We watched as the priest and the elders tried to tinker with the furnace and bring in the heat and the warmth. Come Holy Spirit. Together we prayed the rosary. The Glorious Mysteries. I watched a man surrender his coat to his father. I watched another give his coat to the mom with the babe. I gave my mittens to my mother. A wooden shawl was passed. Christian service. Whatso ever you do to the least of my brethren, that you do unto me. We mostly stood and knelled and sat in the icy cold. A gospel to celebrate the baptism of Jesus was read. A message that quipped that baptisms cannot be done with ice was shared. The altar candles flickered. Our shared breath crystallized. We stood together in the cold because somewhere deep within we believed in the warmth of the message we gathered to receive. I fell more in love with this little church as the end of my road than even before. This is who we are.
This weekend we hosted our former daughter-in-law and her brother and her nieces. A family that has surely been to the edge of the abyss. The mother of these two beautiful girls is passed and the father is doing all he can to win them back. Back from protective services. Back from the abyss of alcohol and drugs. I loved having them here. Hearing their laughter. Is there anything more precious that the giggles of little girls at the table? The timbre of little girls in the morning?
I feel truly blessed. My elder woman are here with us for the next week. In part to celebrate my mother’s 85th birthday. My brother is flying in to celebrate with us. My niece and nephew will come in and we will all celebrate a meal together at our favourite French bistro. What a celebration that will be. My younger sister is sending a bottle of champagne to be enjoyed. That my husband and I are both blessed with the presence of our mothers is a gift denied many. So, we will celebrate. Fully. We will drink the wine and enjoy the meal of togetherness. We will make a place for our elder women. We will honour that from which we have come.
At Mass today, as I said, the Church was cold. But, my heart was warm. At my lunch table and my dinner table, much grief joined us. We kept placing an additional plate at the table. Someone wishes they were here. The food was rich and plentiful but there was a loss that was palatable. The loss of a daughter, a mother, a sister, a friend. Jude, we miss you. Terribly. There was a moment when I needed to remove myself and have “a nap.” I think mostly, I needed the time and the space to collect myself and ask for grace. The grace to be with the grief, and the grace to find the joy and the hope and the love amidst the ashes. Two beautiful little girls who need to find a father and an auntie who believe in them enough to sacrifice and serve. An old woman who needs a granddaughter and a son and daughter in law who will meet her sorrow. A daughter who needs a surrogate father and mother who opens wide their hearts to her as she grieves the loss of her mother. A daughter who needs a mother who stands with her in the cold of a sanctuary and believes in the warmth of things unseen. A woman who tapes her feelings into this blog who needs to know what she speaks is both personal and universal.
My elder sister is in Finland. Chasing the Northern Lights. My elder sister is one who is comfortable with the cold and the dark and is tuned to adventure. She sent me pictures of her adventures. 3.5 hours of light and the rest is dark. Oh, we are in dark times. Our newsfeeds proclaim the doom. Can we find the resilience and strength and courage to face the dark? Can we find the light in the dark? I pray, yes!
Pray we can hear the giggles of little girls at the table in the lap of their redeemed father. Pray we can feel the hug of a mother who has lost a daughter. Pray we can feel the company of loves who gather and laugh and eat and hope. Life is so difficult. Life is so precious. Life is.