Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Works of Mercy Bouquet: Bury the Dead

It has been awhile since I have really posted regularly.  Have you missed me?  I don't know if anyone has noticed that the blog is quiet, sometimes I wonder if there are actually people out there who read and anticipate new posts.  We have been incredibly busy, plus I do not have internet hooked up at the new house.  I told my husband that I could live without it for a couple of months, but I am missing writing and it seems impossible to get anything posted without constant internet.  We have been working non-stop to settle into the new house and prepare the old house for rental, throw in some major plumbing issues and a two year old, and well that's why I haven't been writing. 



I wanted to finish my Works of Mercy Series in time for Christmas, everywhere I look the world is telling me that I am running out of time.  On top of the internet problems, I have really struggled with what to write about "Bury the Dead".  I considered skipping it, but that didn't seem right.  I knew there had to be a story there to share, a piece of wisdom that the LORD wanted me to pen for all of you.  But what?  What more is there to say about bury the dead other than the title of the work implies.  Surely, in modern cultures, the dead are always buried in some way, shape, or form.  Most places have laws about that, you cannot just leave a body on the ground and ignore it. 
However, two recent events made me realize why this is an act of mercy.  The first was the terrorist attacks in Paris, the second, the anniversary of my daughter's due date--she would have been five on the feast of St Elizabeth of Hungry.  I realized despite all our civility and hygienic laws, we do not properly bury our dead, and as Catholics, we must step up and go against the tide, and demand better for God's sake and our own.  I shared the story of losing my daughter to miscarriage and the miscarriage of justice for her remains that followed before.  I was assured that her ashes were buried within a stranger's coffin, along with "other medical waste."  Read as other pre-born children, except they were one who had been selectively terminated for whatever reason, I never wanted to bury my daughter before even meeting her.  So, yes, she was buried, but how and where and when?  I was never allowed to know.  Did she have a Christian burial?  Was she buried with honor and dignity?  While, I will never know the answer to the first question, the second is a resounding NO!  She was mixed in with other lost children, cremated, then strategically hidden in a casket, the family and friends never being the wiser.  The loved ones who wept over the casket and grave never knew that they were weeping over my child, nor any child.  Yes, she was buried for propriety's sake, but no dignity was shown.  The value of her life was never considered, she was just some waste that had to be dealt with legally and efficiently.  Do only the wanted and useful deserve to have dignity? 

To my discredit, in examining this topic and the duties of the work that we are obliged to undertake, I found myself lacking as well.  I never had a proper Mass of Burial said for Ashley.  I have included her in many prayer intentions and Mass requests, particularly in November.  I have lit candles and wept prayerful tears, however never a proper Mass just for her.  Once I could not acquire her remains to bury, I felt that I had no right to such a blessing.  I felt my opportunity to lay her to rest ended with the hospital disposing of her remains without my consent.  Through prayer and reflection, I realize that I am wrong.  I'm not really sure how one accomplishes such a task as a Mass of Burial five years later with no body to bury, but God has laid it on my heart to discover just that.

In the midst of this soul searching, the attacks on Paris occurred.  They truly shook my heart and soul.  I had sensed rumbling of something awful to come, but more over I have a great appreciate and love for Paris and her people.  The shocking, yet not completely unexpected considering all that has been going on in the world, news led me down another path of examination.  What could all this violence and evil have to do with a work of mercy?  The LORD kept drawing my mind back to this article but I couldn't understand why.  Then it hit me, head on---what will become of the dead terrorists?  Where will their remains be laid to rest?  Will anyone pray for their souls?  Were they annointed and shown dignity that every human being, as a child of God, deserves?  More and more questions, no answers!

I know that this is not a part of the puzzle that we want to consult.  They are dead and we rejoice in that shred of hope that at least they can commit no more atrocities against humanity.  However, part of me always wonders, what were their last thoughts?  Did they have children, a wife, siblings, friends?  Even in a radical, militarist society, their mothers must weep knowing they are gone.  Surely, even with a mission from Allah, they will be missed.  Even if they aren't, they were all infused with immortal souls at conception, they were blessed by the LORD and their lives were planned before eternity began.  Yes, they have turned against God.  Yes, they have sinned against their fellow man, taking innocent lives and creating fear in a cloud of evil and destruction.  But, do we not all sin?  Does it not grieve the Father when we speak harshly to our brother or child, when we react selfishly and refuse to focus on the other?  Are we any more deserving of mercy because our sins have not become international news? 

There is great evil in the world and it begins to feel like darkness is closing in on us, advancing every second.  In moments of weakness, we may fear that the dark forces may win--but they will never prevail.  Still, every one of us will stand judgement, all of us will meet our Maker and account for our every second of life.  We will stand alone, there will not be a hierarchy, there will be no one less worthy beside us to make us look better.  Our body will be buried in some way, shape, or form, and our soul will ascend to the Gate.  Will we be welcomed in?  Who will we meet on the other side?  Will there be a Paris terrorist?  Will there be a poor, lost, and sinful soul that we wrote off as no good?  God is our ultimate Judge, in His courts, true justice is metered out; not by what we deserve but by what He deems, in His Mercy, we will receive.

I pray often for the conversion of our enemies, for the softening of their hearts.  I pray that their knees will bend to the One, True, God and they will turn from the darkness and embrace the Light.  I pray that their consciences will guide them to the beauty of humanity and the sanctity of life.  However, I have never prayed for their dead.  I have never lit candles for the repose of their soul, never requested a Mass be said for their intentions.  The LORD wishes that none should perish, in that final moment between here and the hereafter, we are given the choice of eternity in praise or eternity in misery.  Which did they choose?  Did even one of the terrorists repent as their soul departed this earth?  Is he "serving his time" of cleansing in Purgatory?  What is the quickest way out of Purgatory?  The prayers of many faithful for your release. 

So how do we live this work of mercy?  Surely, we cannot hold funerals for children that we never knew existed.  Should we track down the morgues were those killed in the perpetration of crimes are kept and offer to bury their bodies?  I do not have the answers.  All I do know is that we should mourn every life lost.  Our heart should weep for every soul that leaves this earth, and pray for its eternal destination.  So I ask all of you, please do just a little part in remembering all the dead, those loved--but more importantly, those forgotten, unloved, and reviled.  Please, this Sunday, as you go to Mass pray for the victims, every victim, of the ISIS tragedies--those lost by force and those lost as perpetrators of force.  In the prayers of the faithful, offer a silent prayer for the repose of the souls of the terrorists.  After Mass, light a candle and ask God to grant them a conditional blessing, that if their bodies were not treated with dignity that they may be blessed in traveling from this earth to their final resting place, that they may receive a proper burial as children of God; for surely even if no one else in their family nor country has wept for them, their Father in Heaven has.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Praying Us Home

I know that I have been MIA for a couple of weeks now. Please don't take it personally, school began, we are days away from closing on a new house, and efforts to clean out my parents' home have reached feverish level because we are rapidly running out of time.  Needless to say, free time has been an enigma of late.  However, I wanted to jump on to share a little something I wrote and say hi.  I hope to get up a couple of more posts this week--pray for me, there is too much to be done and not enough time to do it, but all things are possible with GOD!

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The closing date on our new home is fast approaching and I can't stop thinking of my grandmother. The last time I visited her at home, she asked, "Dolly, did you find a house yet?"

I explained that we hadn't because all the ones in our price range weren't what we needed or needed way too much work. She patted my hand and kissed me, "I'm going to pray that you find a good house that is just what you need."
 A couple of months later, we had had a house hunting day set up but I wasn't in the mood to go.... My heart was too heavy from packing up my grandmother's treasures and visiting her home for the last time. I was ready to give up, we weren't finding what we wanted and had started looking out of state. But, we went for the appointment anyway. A house had popped up on our realtor's list at the last moment, once we had visited the ones we had originally planned, we headed there for a quick look to end the day. We arrived at that house and as soon as I walked in, I knew it was home.

We checked out the bathroom and it was bitter-sweet. It was so similar to my grandmother's and I had to fight back the tears as I remembered how my heart broke when I walked through hers the day before for the last time, it had always been my favorite room.

As we looked around the kitchen, something caught my eye. The curtains in the living room--the only curtains still up in the house--jogged my memory. As I had been cleaning out my grandmother's cedar chest, I kept coming back to this one pair of curtains. I didn't know why and couldn't figure out why they were speaking to me. They definitely weren't her prettiest curtains. After picking them up for the fifth time, I decided to take them and maybe I would figure out their significance later---and there they were, the same curtains!

My grandmother had prayed us into the perfect house for us. There were so many little things that reminded me of her. When Mama told you she would pray, it was a promise not a platitude. She embodied St Paul's call to pray without ceasing. She didn't pray when it was convenient and go on with her life--she prayed in spite of her life. I'm so thankful that my grandmother was willing to go the extra five miles past what would have been considered more than enough, that her children and grandchildren were her all, that she was there when she had better things to do or it wasn't easy for her, that she lived every moment of her life for everyone else. I'm thankful that she taught me that vacations, pedicures, new clothes, nice furniture, and splurges for me don't make a life worth it. It's giving all that you have and more to your family--that is the gift that lasts generations.

Bishop Barron always describes true love as the willing of the good of the other for the others' sake.  In other words, all is motivated by the benefit and cost to the other, the loved one, not measured by the benefit and cost to self.  By that definition, my grandmother was the truest human definition of true love I have ever known.

I miss my grandmother terribly, every day. This house is her last birthday gift to me. But, I know that she is still looking out for me, her Dolly and always will. If I ever amount to half the woman she was, I will have lived an extraordinary life.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Sweetness and Light--Mourning Little Sebastian

Do you remember my friend, Sarah?  She was the angel when I needed a helping hand.  Well, she could really use your prayers right now. Her family is facing the unspeakable loss of her sweet, little nephew, Sebastian.  The tiny boy with light in his eyes, has caught many people's attention.  It is so sad to let him go, and his parents did so in the most grace-filled, amazing way.  His sweetness and light lingers on those who have not even met him.  However, his famliy is living a anguish that we cannot understand.  Please pray for them, for peace and hope and faith and love to flood their very beings and sustain them through the tough, dark moments of learning to live without the love of their lives. Thank you.  Tiny St Sebastian, pray for us!

http://www.onepeterfive.com/the-loss-of-his-life-is-so-great-how-can-it-be-borne/


To read more about Sebastian's story click here!

Monday, December 22, 2014

An Open Letter to Grief

I am linking up with Kate for her pre-holiday letters to grief link-up.



Dear Grief,
You have found me despite my hopes to escape you. You have become a travelling companion through this journey of life, but never a friend.

You are the proverbial glass of spilled milk, happening when most inconvenient, spilling all over me and my home. You splash and roll into unexpected places, hiding for me to find as I go about my every day work, clinging to ordinary items and ringing them with painful recollection. Left unaddressed, your spill begins to smell and turn the stomach, causing disorientation, upset, and regret. Crying over you changes nothing, but in tears I can wash you away, I can shine the marred surfaces and begin anew. In tears I may respond but I am not vanquished, you have not won.

In the end these three remain, hope, faith, and love--the greatest of these is love. I am loved by my Beloved, and by those for whom I mourn. For without love what is there to grieve? Because I have love, I have faith. Faith that my tears will turn to joy, my weeping to dancing in my Father's Kingdom. From my faith, I have hope, a hope no one can kill, a hope no pain can squelch.

I am not abandoned, I am not alone, you will never make me an orphan. I am a daughter of the King of Kings and His Reign will never end. He has prepared a place for me, and filled my heart with grace, washed my soul with peace that surpasses all understanding.

I will never be your slave, I have been bought at a price, ransomed to His own, exaulted by His Holy Hand. He has sent His angels to minister to me, with legions of heavenly armies goes before me, and stands behind me through the valley of darkness to the mountain of plenty.

For unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given. Through the familiar carols laced with bittersweet recollections, is the story of my past, present, and future. Your hold on my heart is illusion, your power over my emotions a fleeting whimsy. I have been promised the Kingdom and you have already been destroyed.

Gloria in excelsis Deo!!  His Joy is my strength, and I will rejoice in all things, for tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow again, I will rise up and greet the Son.

In Him,
Jennifer

You can read more about my struggles with grief here, here, and here.