Stillpoint

After the Good Friday service, it was great to be able to just sit quietly in front of the venerated cross after everyone else had left the chapel, and to be "alone with the Alone." 

      

The stillness and quiet around became one with the stillness and quiet within, A stillness that had been making its presence felt for sometime now, as if begging to be recognized, acknowledged and savored.

Later, on the way to the car, the site overlooking the valley below caught my attention. The lovely twilight scene on a Good Friday was like the prelude to Easter.  A word whispered repeatedly in my ear: "Stillpoint."  Inner quiet. Freedom. Joy. The space where my heart just knows how real and how true is his steadfast and most faithful love. The love that will always be here.  

 My dearest Lord,

 Thank you for your miracle, your gift, 

of this precious Stillpoint;

where your faithful, Divine Love

meets my struggling, imperfect love

in silence and stillness;

where gratitude now longs

to be transformed into

 a vessel for your love

 to also flow through 

to many others.

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Sanctuary

Last October, after grueling weeks of reviews and exams, I set off for a day of rest. Before setting out, I happened to see a book that had been lying around my pile of books for years but that I just hadn't picked up and read. Esther de Waal's "Lost in Wonder" turned out to be the perfect spiritual companion for this perfect sanctuary. Talk about experiencing our God in all things. I was only looking to rest, but ended up being filled to the brim with gratitude and grace in this wonderfully silent, serene space. 

"Listen to the silence,

let it enfold you,

like a piece of music,

like bird-watching."

-E. de Waal

"O God, 

I commend to you this time

and ask you to bless

and to strengthen me

in my heartfelt search

for that silence and stillness

in which I pray

I shall find you

and you shall find me."

-E. de Waal

"You do not have to

Look for anything, just

 Look.

You do not have to 

Listen for specific

Sounds, just

Listen.

You do not have to

Accomplish anything, just

Be,

And in the 

Looking, and the

Listening, and the 

Being, find
Me.

-Ann Lewin

"I desire to be all silence,

all adoration,

to penetrate ever deeper and deeper into God,

and to be so filled with God

that I may in my prayer

give him to those who do not know him."

-Elizabeth of the Trinity

"My Lord and my God!"

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Mom

  

My mom is now at a more advanced stage of Alzheimer's and Parkinson's Disease. I don't know how much time she has left with us. It could be many years, or it could be sooner. I find that when I stay by her side, hold her hand, stroke her face, kiss her forehead, I am more often than not, moved to tears. A part of me has been crying inside. Wishing she could respond to me the way I would want her to respond. To acknowledge my love, to give me soothing words of love in return. She is still with us, and yet I miss her being fully present. Even if I try, it's very hard to understand what she might be saying, when her mouth moves. Often times, I am not even sure if she recognizes who I am, or if I am just another person who surrounds her.

A part of me feels blessed to be able to take care of her. She is just within reach as we live under the same roof. Anytime I want to, I can easily go to her side, hold her hand, be with her. Pray alongside her as the recording of the rosary plays, or as the mass on EWTN is celebrated. It used to feel like a bit of a burden to have to look over so many aspects of her care. But now I realize it is also a most precious gift. 

And yet tears flow when I am with her. I feel like I am now her mother, and she is now my child, a special child to care for. That I have in a way lost my mother, though I have gained a child. 

Perhaps this is a similar experience for those who care for their elderly loved ones who have A.D. There is a blessing, but there is also grieving. Gratitude, but also sadness. Longing for what has been, and at the same time a savoring of what still exists, for only God knows how much time is left.

"I love you very much Mom. I only hope and pray that you are as comfortable as you can be, and feel as secure and loved as possible. If ever there is still some iota of recognizing who we are, know that we thank you for all you have done for us as a mother. Stay close to Jesus now as He will be your surest, most constant companion as you go through this latter phase of your life."  

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Bless and keep her oh Lord,

and may your face 

constantly shine upon her.