December 3
“You will look for me, but you will not find me; and where I am, you
cannot come.” John 7:34
It was not a typical August night. It was cool and clear and the sky was filled with stars, so illuminating that their light brought everything in our yard to life! It was 2:30 a.m. My Dad had just called to tell me my dear Mother had just passed away after months of suffering. We had just left the hospital a short while before, after being with her again all day. My children heard the telephone ring and instinctively knew, running into my room. I needed to go outside, into a place with no walls; I wanted to find my Mother. I dashed to the back door and out into our yard, my children in tow. Looking up I searched and searched. I needed to see her again. I needed to see her smile and to tell me how much she loved me and each member of my family in her special way. I needed to hold her hand again, to feel her love. Couldn’t I just catch some glimpse of her in the night sky? Wouldn’t there be some sign? Instead, all I deeply felt was her non-presence. She was gone. Where she was now, I could not get to. I felt lost and small and smothered. As I breathed in the musky late summer air amidst the sad, end of the summer sound of crickets, I was overcome with grief. My children and I held each other and cried. Then we began to reminisce about her; the way she laughed, the places we went together, the stories she loved to tell, her love of flowers and plants, her gifts to so many of us of her knitted blankets and hats and slippers, and all the baking she did. We talked and laughed and cried together. And as my husband and held our children close and looked into their eyes, I felt my Mother’s love encircle us.
Christ spoke many times to his Apostles of what was ahead. He wanted them to understand that his physical presence was not for long. Even so, they were not prepared to “lose” him. None of us are. There is no concept of the extent to which grief overcomes us when the physical presence of those we love is no longer there. We yearn for them; we ache to be able to touch them again, to hear their voices . . . then in our memories of them, their love and their life return to us. We begin to understand and appreciate them on a different level, and see their gifts to our lives often more clearly.
How the apostles must have grieved after Christ’s crucifixion! But he sent the Holy Spirit to them to give them courage and strength. In memory of Him, of His love and His teachings, they persevered in faith in spreading The Word. During this season of Advent as we await the Christ Child and a renewal of our Faith, take some time to think about the loved ones in your life, the precious gift of their lives, the meaning of the various stages of life we cycle through - our physical life and our spiritual life - for we are in constant motion, constant change, as demonstrated by Jesus himself. Those gifts Christ gave to us: His presence on earth and in the Eucharist, the gift of eternal life and His love for all creation, remain for always. And most of all, I do believe that if we look for Him, we will find Him, and His love will encircle us as we see Him in the people all around us.
Father God, when the time comes that we go to where our loved ones cannot, please encircle them with Your enduring love.
Copyright© 2013 Kathleen A. Matson
“You will look for me, but you will not find me; and where I am, you
cannot come.” John 7:34
It was not a typical August night. It was cool and clear and the sky was filled with stars, so illuminating that their light brought everything in our yard to life! It was 2:30 a.m. My Dad had just called to tell me my dear Mother had just passed away after months of suffering. We had just left the hospital a short while before, after being with her again all day. My children heard the telephone ring and instinctively knew, running into my room. I needed to go outside, into a place with no walls; I wanted to find my Mother. I dashed to the back door and out into our yard, my children in tow. Looking up I searched and searched. I needed to see her again. I needed to see her smile and to tell me how much she loved me and each member of my family in her special way. I needed to hold her hand again, to feel her love. Couldn’t I just catch some glimpse of her in the night sky? Wouldn’t there be some sign? Instead, all I deeply felt was her non-presence. She was gone. Where she was now, I could not get to. I felt lost and small and smothered. As I breathed in the musky late summer air amidst the sad, end of the summer sound of crickets, I was overcome with grief. My children and I held each other and cried. Then we began to reminisce about her; the way she laughed, the places we went together, the stories she loved to tell, her love of flowers and plants, her gifts to so many of us of her knitted blankets and hats and slippers, and all the baking she did. We talked and laughed and cried together. And as my husband and held our children close and looked into their eyes, I felt my Mother’s love encircle us.
Christ spoke many times to his Apostles of what was ahead. He wanted them to understand that his physical presence was not for long. Even so, they were not prepared to “lose” him. None of us are. There is no concept of the extent to which grief overcomes us when the physical presence of those we love is no longer there. We yearn for them; we ache to be able to touch them again, to hear their voices . . . then in our memories of them, their love and their life return to us. We begin to understand and appreciate them on a different level, and see their gifts to our lives often more clearly.
How the apostles must have grieved after Christ’s crucifixion! But he sent the Holy Spirit to them to give them courage and strength. In memory of Him, of His love and His teachings, they persevered in faith in spreading The Word. During this season of Advent as we await the Christ Child and a renewal of our Faith, take some time to think about the loved ones in your life, the precious gift of their lives, the meaning of the various stages of life we cycle through - our physical life and our spiritual life - for we are in constant motion, constant change, as demonstrated by Jesus himself. Those gifts Christ gave to us: His presence on earth and in the Eucharist, the gift of eternal life and His love for all creation, remain for always. And most of all, I do believe that if we look for Him, we will find Him, and His love will encircle us as we see Him in the people all around us.
Father God, when the time comes that we go to where our loved ones cannot, please encircle them with Your enduring love.
Copyright© 2013 Kathleen A. Matson