Monday, September 29, 2014

The Anteroom

The Net Mender, Marianne Stokes
In April I wrote in another post that when someone in our family dies, we move into a little anteroom of death--not able to follow  our loved one to the place where he has gone, but unable to go back to the everyday world, and it's the rare friend who is able to come in with us. This is what I expected to experience when my mother died, but I didn't. I didn't feel at all removed from the everyday world, nor did I feel at all separated from those around me. When I thought about it later, I realized that the reason I didn't go into the room was that I was already there. This is where I live now. And this is where I'm at home.

I know that many of you probably think that this is morbid or depressing. I'm sure that a few years ago, I would have felt the same way. But it's not. It's just that I have reached that place in my life where I have done all I felt that I needed to do, and that everything that comes now is just a prelude to that step over that final threshold.

Don't think that I'm saying that I think this is imminent. I don't. I might live for another 20 or 30 years. I might be called to do a lot of surprising things. I'm happy with my life and I'm surrounded by people I love who love me. I'll be happy to stay, but I'm also looking forward to letting go. It's a very peaceful place to be.
Death is swallowed up in victory. 
Where, O death, is your victory? 
Where, O death, is your sting? 
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. 
But thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Should you want to comment and find that Blogger is being recalcitrant, try this, write your comment and copy it. If it doesn't post, paste your comment into a new box. For some reason, this seems to work for me. JTC

Saturday, September 27, 2014

Time to Go?

We are thinking about moving. Neither one of us really wants to move, but we are thinking that pretty soon, we must. So now, on my way to and from work, or wherever else we are going, I keep my eyes open. I want to store it all up--and it's making things very difficult.

It is almost as if, knowing that I am thinking of leaving, the world around me is courting, It's been especially beautiful lately because of the mist.  This morning, there was a blanket of fog hovering over the cotton fields and the sunlight was at just the right angle to lay a veil of gold over the gray. It reminded me of that song that Lancelot sings in CamelotIf Ever I Would Leave You

How can I leave now when the mist is rising and weaving new mysteries every morning, or in the winter when everything is that lovely grayish brown except the one cardinal sitting in a tree like a burning heart; or in the Spring because of as e. e. cummings said, "the leaping greenly spirits of trees/and a blue dream of sky;and for everything/which is natural which is infinite which is yes"

And summer, well I have to admit that if I have to leave, summer would probably be the easiest time. It's so often hot and sometimes so muggy that I can hardly breathe, and I might be tempted to go even if Lancelot said that, "[my] face [had] a luster that put gold to shame." Still, it will be even hotter in the city where the concrete doesn't cool off even at night and there are no stars to speak of.

When Jane Eyre thought that she would have to leave Mr. Rochester and go to Ireland to be a governess there, she said, "I see the necessity of departure; and it is like looking on the necessity of death." And that is what it is like. It will be like a little death. But, death holds a promise, and that necessity doesn't sound anywhere near as threatening as it used to, about which more later.

For the present, at least, we are here and probably will be for a while. It might be a few years or a few months. I'm going to try to go on as if I will be here forever, although I'm hoping to get rid of some stuff. After moving my mother's stuff twice in less than 3 months, after moving a good bit of my own stuff twice in three months last year, I'm not in any hurry to start packing, and when I do, I want there to be less to pack.

As you may have noticed, I haven't been writing lately. I've wanted to, and there are things that I very much want to write about, but I just have not been able to do it. I think that my thoughts have been too unsettled and I haven't been able to concentrate on any one thing long enough to write about it. Things have begun to settle down now, though, so hopefully it won't be another 6 weeks before another post appears. 


Thursday, September 11, 2014

St. Martin's Blog

I think that I have mentioned before in a post that the page with the Novena to St. Martin de Porres which can be found on the sidebar has had as many visits as all the other posts combined. Sometimes people leave prayer requests in the comments, but they don't show up in the Recent Comments box because it's a page and not a post.

Recently, I've been talking to a young man who asked for prayers fairly often, and I would like to invite you all to read the comments on that page, and pray for him as he is in a situation where there is little spiritual support.