Advent. A season of hope as we wait the birth of our Savior. I knew there would be talk of a very special baby, believing in the impossible, and waiting. I was hopeful to find some peace, but realistic knowing I would probably the same typical mascara smeared mess that I usually collapse into at mass.
Once we sat down, the tears started. There was an empty bed awaiting the birth of Jesus on the alter. The emptiness just took my breathe away. My thoughts immediately went to where CJ had once been just a few feet away in his tiny white casket. The front pew where Nate and I sat with the girls behind us that day just glared at me. I cried harder.
My husband sat quietly. Lost in his own thoughts, his arm protectively around me. Through my tears I managed to whisper to him "will there ever be a time when it doesn't hurt so much to be here?". His eyes met mine as he quietly answered "no".
Mass began with a horrible dark cloud hanging over our heads. I often wonder how many people have caught me crying my eyes out in those pews over the past year.
Father's homily brought such words of comfort. Not in the way many would think. He acknowledged that there are so many people hurting this time of year. While I can never convey his words as eloquently as he did, one image stuck with me. He had us imagine John the Baptist, dressed in Camel hair cloaks, bearded, and dusty. Imagine going to John instead of Santa and telling him your greatest heart's desires. Not of tangible gifts, but the things that we may believe we can never have. Tell those desires with the same eagerness and intensity as a child who prays for a coveted toy for Christmas. And believe in your heart that you will be gifted with everything you can unload from your heart.
I sat pondering how wonderful it would feel to be able to say how I long to hold my sweet little boy out loud to someone who wouldn't look upon me with pity or sadness. To say the words without tears knowing that not only is it possible, but promised. I also realized there were things my heart was screaming for that are actually obtainable during my earthly days.
Mass continued, I cried my way up to communion to the confusion of the Eucharistic Minister who smiles at me kindly, and went back to our pew to kneel in prayer. A very large painting of Our Lady Of Guadelupe was on the alter for Her feast day this week. The choir began to sing...
I have travelled many moonless night
Cold and weary, with a babe inside
And I wonder what I've done
Holy Father, you have come
And chosen me now
To carry your son
I am waiting in a silent prayer
I am frightened by the load I bear
In a world as cold as stone,
Must I walk this path alone?
Be with me now
Be with me now
[Chorus]
Breath of heaven
Hold me together
Be forever near me
Breath of heaven
Breath of heaven
Light up my darkness
Pour over me your holiness
For you are holy
Breath of heaven
Do you wonder as you watch my face
If a wiser one should have had my place
But I offer all I am
For the mercy of your plan
Help me be strong
Help me be
Help me
[Chorus: x2]
Breath of heaven
Breath of heaven
Breath of heaven
My tears intensified for a moment. WHY had he chosen me to be CJ's mom? Is God disappointed in me of how I have handled this journey? The song felt momentarily cruel and directed at me.
And then I felt it. A warmth in my heart that defies all words. I have always had a strong connection to Mary. I have called upon her for her help countless times as I have worked my way through this journey. But while my eyes were fixed upon the crucifix, my heart pulled my attention over to that beautiful painting of our Blessed Mother. I looked into Mary's eyes and my tears stopped. She understood. She was there with me in my grief showing me I am not alone. Her presence was so strong that I closed my eyes there on my knees and soaked it in as if it were the summer sunshine making an appearance in the middle of a Chicago winter. Her warmth and love washed over me as I softly sang along with every word of the song. This song I had sang along with every Christmas for many years, but never really paid attention to, was soaked in understanding and grace of my Blessed Mother.
I will never understand why I have been chosen for this path, but I am not alone. Millions of parents all around the world lit candles in memory of their sweet children tonight. I came home from mass and joined them while talking to CJ in my heart.
The Bells of Saint Mary's is playing in the background as I write this. Such a sweet story. The tree is lit and lights drape over CJ's picture on the mantel. One dog is begging for my attention as she lines up her toy at my feet while the other naps under the tree. I have found a bit of peace. Even my cough has eased off today. Hopefully tomorrow will bless me with a day of laughter with my sweet little buddy. I'm sure CJ watches over us and giggles at our antics.
And through every moment, the Holy Spirit has pushed me in reminder that our Blessed Mother is with me every step of the way. Yep, my cradle catholic roots are showing tonight. I think I will leave them be for while. Those roots are proof that I'm planted firmly in place.
Wishing you all the blessing this season promises.
#doitforcj
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