8th

November 30, 2016

Going to Mass in the morning is the salvation of everything about me.  I have scheduled someone else to open the school so that I can go to morning Mass as often as possible.  It takes an hour and a half since it is twenty minutes travel there and from. I don't know what the Eucharist does inside us, but then how do we know what Jesus does in us all the time?  Mystery takes on such cloth when trying to figure out how it all works.

Coming home from two weeks being with my Wisconsin daughter, son-in-law and brand new baby was tough.  I would be a success in a movie where crying on cue had to happen; every time I think of wiping that tear from my dear daughter's cheek at the airport, I cry.  Hearing her say, "we don't know what we are doing," my heart breaks. The truth is though that they do know what they are doing and are wonderful parents; top drawer! top notch! cream of the crop! gilt-edged!...as are all of the grand babies' parents. They would disagree but they would be wrong. Part of the confusion, worry, wonder and willing struggle is what helps make a parent great. But I knew what she meant.  They were brand new parents. Shopping, feeding, sleeping, all the daily routines that change hour by hour; all of that had to be contended with and maneuvered. She knew, and I knew, that it is much easier with another set of hands and willing heart hanging around.  I want to hang around. And sweet Louisa!  She was comfortable with me and knew me by the time I left. It is so hard bringing that knowing to a halt. I miss her.

I want to hang around with each of the children and their children.  I want to be a constant particle in the lives of each of them; not as a distant thought and prayer but as a physical and ever-ready help and support for them.  Still, I do know that they will all be okay...they are all wonderful parents...but the desire is there and the tearing at my heart and mind.

I saw my New York daughter and family, the Godparents of the new baby while in Wisconsin.  My little Mia came quickly to me when she saw me and wanted to be with me.  There are epoxy heart strings between us.  She knows it and I know it and when we Skype we know it and remember.  I want to develop those strings with her little brother too...but these things take time!  It is not pleasant being so far away. When I think of little Mia's eyes watching me as they left...I can't help the tears.

Coming home, I flew into Texas and spent a couple days with the Texas family.  Sweet Zachary and I have epoxy strings too but I think he has developed a little confusion and mistrust toward me.  He is smart enough to know now that he cannot rely on me to be a constant in his life.  I want to be a constant.  If I could just get quadruplelocation to work for me... When I think of Zachary's eyes, holding on to mine with those epoxy strings, his little fingers opening and closing on a goodbye...I cry.

Is it this hard for other grandparents?  I know that being quietly alone makes the thoughts last longer, seem deeper in my whole being.  That's a good thing though...I think. Is it? I pray and offer up the longing for those without babies, or those with tragedy in their families, and it helps.  It helps me and it helps them.  I had a thought the other day that I believe came from the Holy Spirit.  It was the thought that I may be doing more for my children's families with the prayers that I offer for them than the help I could give physically if we were closer.  Still, I know that even if we were closer I would still be praying for them.

It's not just the grand babies who render me as mushy as a rotten peach.  My son was here for Thanksgiving; helped me cook, took me shopping, took me to a movie.  It was so nice! I was trying to stay upbeat after he left but I missed him terribly.  Things come up that I want to show him; things I want to  say to him.  I wish we had played a duet on the piano.

Sweet Mia dislocated her elbow while throwing an "I'm-almost-two-years-old" fit last night.  I couldn't help.  I could pray.  After a visit to the ER she is fine. Sweet Doll.

Back to the grace of the Mass.  I have been quite sad after leaving the babies and their families.  It got worse after my son left.  I knew I was heading down the slippery slide of depression.  It made me frustrated with myself.  My grandchildren are not my children. Why do I feel so tied to them? They have wonderful parents.

 I cleaned out a closet and I am glad to have six bags of stuff gone, but it didn't quell the sadness.

 Mass often makes me cry even when I am not sad.  Getting ready for Sunday Mass this morning, I wondered if I would start a crying stint and not be able to stop-up the damn during Mass, making people wonder what the heck was up with me. I even had the thought that I should maybe not go to Mass because of that.  It was a fleeting thought.  I don't think I have missed Sunday Mass more than five times in my entire life. I simply made myself not think of the crying triggers.

None of the churches around here have Mass on Monday. Reminds me of all the restaurants which are closed on Monday.  Strange. No Mass in the morning on Tuesdays either; Masses are in the evening.  At this time of the year it is too dark and too cold to go - well, "yes," to your question of "don't I have lights on the car?",  but I don't like the cold and dark and coming back in through the dark and cold to an empty house.

Tuesday I felt so tired I lay down twice to take a nap. I remember rolling over in the bed and feeling terribly alone and sad but as a tear dropped, I sensed Jesus saying, "I don't want you to be so sad." A text came through from a daughter saying that she thought her baby had spit up or drooled a little on her chest and then was lying in it. For some reason it made me laugh out loud. Almost seemed like a touch of grace.

This morning I did go to Mass and when I came home I stood still in the kitchen a moment and realized the sadness was gone. I was not tired; I was not sad. I knew deep within me that it was the powerful Presence of Jesus Himself, in the Eucharist who had strengthened me.  He had given me another nudge of remembering that He does not want me to be sad. I mused for a bit on how that will feel, how that will look, if I can go about the day in a joyful state remembering that the joy of the Lord is our strength.  This morning Father talked about the call of Andrew and Peter and how they left everything behind and followed Jesus.  How are we to leave everything behind; our sadness,our expectations, our dreams, and follow Jesus.  How can we tell others if we are not called?  How can we be called unless we try to pay attention and listen? How can we pay attention and listen if we don't put ourselves in the encircling presence of Jesus where we know He lives?  We have to enmesh ourselves in His grace-giving moments of reading Scripture, studying Scripture, prayers, and the Eucharist.  With that touch of His I felt greatly light all day.

Jesus, help me let go of my nets that entangle me, nets where all I catch is a sad heart and depressed spirit;  rather, help me follow You wherever You lead. While I listen to Your leading, help me remember to be joyful.