Retrospection, Preparation for Christmas

I dreamt last night a young girl was busy tending to things she needn’t. She didn’t notice she had a new baby who needed her attention. I stepped in and told her she needs to take care of her new baby. The baby’s need is great. When I woke up from this dream it was 4 am, and I asked who the girl in my dream was, it came to me that she is me. Somehow I have a little infant to care for. Not literally, but still important. I thought of Christmas and it seems there is a need in me to think back and grasp the meaning of this time from a younger perspective within. Here it is:

A Pregnant Reflection, I am Changed:
(This was previously published in Vol. 1 No. 17 Fall issue of the Catholic Worker “Neighborhood News” 2000, in La Crosse, WI, it has been edited slightly since that time.)

Throughout this pregnancy I have found myself in reflection of many things. This will be our first born child. When we found out we were expecting, it was thrilling and joyous. In the first seconds, though, I felt apprehensive, uncertain, but as quickly as those feelings came, they were dispelled by a strong, sure sense all would be well, all would be taken care of. God reminds us of the care he shows the birds, in their needs and asks, how much more then, will He do to care for us. I remembered this.

Advent is a good time to be pregnant, enfolded in God’s Mystery and gifts. We have gone through child birthing class, baptismal preparation, had a shower, and have a room prepared, all that is left is the day of birth, which is known logistically, but really only God knows when.

There was a holy infant born in a manger with animals and strange shepherds looking in. There was a human father present, in faith, and a new wife and mother. This particular new mother was profoundly conscious of a great gift and responsibility before her.

Multitudes of angels showed their joyous excitement by appearing and praising God, scaring all who were there. So they had to stop singing and announcing in order to calm the fears of the people they showed themselves to. I am sure it was a wonderful fear. One that made all who were there all the more grateful and filled…and open. For Heaven itself arrived and all couldn’t help rejoicing the birth of God on Earth. Imagine the small little boy peeking at the Earth for the first time as a baby, the same as each of us. A lowly birth in a stable, what courageous majesty for Divinity to be incarnated in such an awkward place.

Jeff and I are in awe of the mystery of our child, a unique being from God, gifted to us-growing within me! An ordinary happening, but still miraculous. We have room for our child. We are gifted with clothes, blankets, many things. We do not have to worry about where our heads will rest or how and where I will give birth.

Early in my pregnancy I found the dreams I had were even stranger than usual. One night it was a frightening one and I awoke thinking of that passage in Revelations. In Revelations there is the woman “clothed with the sun” in labor and giving birth. A dragon threatens to devour the infant. A threat, but it is not accomplished. God’s hand is upon the child and the woman is also protected.

My reflection in the wee hours revealed a feeling that there is vulnerability in pregnancy, a specific one of each unborn child. I asked in prayer that night that I may clothe myself in Christ and be a shield and guide for my tiny baby. I had not ever thought before I might have a duty to ask to be spiritual protection for my child. So we learn.

I find it incredible, the communication/understanding I feel with this child. Certain things stimulate the child I carry: food, sermons at church, Jeff’s voice, my singing. I have a big feeling this little being is closer to God than I am at this point, and I am brought closer to the Lord through this child. My prayer has changed, my perspective of Jesus and His Mother has changed. Everyday things are more real. Prayer becomes day to day experiences of miracle.

We are changed. The truth and journey of Jesus and his unusual family speak with greater power to us now. I imagine the day our baby is baptized, I think of Jesus being described as tender and mild. I wonder how Mary thought about all of these things. We are told she was contemplative and aware. When it was late in the 9th month did that little tiny Divinity push on her ribs mercilessly? Did she grow weary, asking, “How much longer?!” I am sure she sensed a precious love stirring within her womb, perhaps that graced her with profound patience.

Entering this passage in life, there are times I have mourned who I was before this. Past that threshold now, a deep joy is growing, a peaceful acceptance is rooted firmly. What a priceless gift. Housing a living soul for a time.

I feed the birds in our yard with the remembrance of the Lord’s promise in caring for the birds, in caring for each of us. I feed them thinking God puts it in my heart to feed them. I should like to be in His plan to provide for others. I am deeply thankful for the care we receive.

Part of Mary’s journey was to lose her son. And she needed to find a peace in that to face her son’s death. So with the great blessing of “God With Us”, came also the agony of loss not far behind. So it is.

With the contemplation of loss there also comes fear. I fear being lost in it.

Yet, this baby who I have not yet met, has connected me to God in a new openness. Somehow, I have now found peace and understanding of loss as Sacred. What is Sacred holds Mystery and Love. The acceptance of loss is an embracing of God, a trust in His protection and care of all. He was born in a stable. Somehow I am comforted. It is a consolation, a mercy, a sign.

More than ever the Holy Spirit calls upon us to open our minds and hearts, our whole being to the precious vulnerable, demanding, needy, heavenly newborn. Each of us, each child unborn and born, needs the clothing of God’s Love. It is our right to have that, but it is also a gift given to us. A gift that often needs to be upheld by others through an insight, grace and compassion. A wise sister told me, prayer does more than we can know.

I pray that each child may receive this armor of love right now, in this world, at this time. May the many parents and caregivers of this age, in this world wear the Christ love as shields to nurture and guide the children with. May the Holy infant Jesus be brought to each of us in this time of Christmas, in a lowly, intimate, profound and beautiful way. May we know the awe of angels voices singing in our midst this day.

I send praise and thanks for the gift, the miracle of life. Amen.

–
peace and good will to all,

Merry Christmas!

Chan Sherin

Merry Christmas!

There were nearly 1,000 people at the funeral Wednesday night. Fr. Tom O’Neill gave the eulogy. He said, “I am a better priest and a better human because of Earl, can any of you say anything less?” Fr. Tom also spoke of the hope of eternal life, but stayed true in acknowledging the reality, the grief and sadness that is the here and now. That was true and good, much appreciated. Joseph, Rachel and Marci had the light of love in their eyes. Our prayers, love and Christmas wishes stay with them.

It is nearly Christmas. So often grief is woven through Christmas, despite the promise of joy and hope within it. It is a season of contradictions and the world appears to be covered in a darkness. I turn to an old friend,

“God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”
–C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

“It is hard to have patience with people who say ‘There is no death’ or ‘Death doesn’t matter.’ There is death. And whatever is matters. And whatever happens has consequences, and it and they are irrevocable and irreversible. You might as well say that birth doesn’t matter.”
- C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

The memory of the newborn Jesus in this season brings forward the beauty of birth to our deepest pains and grief. It is a Divine Mystery. We step into the darkest day of the year and offer love and gratitude for all good and peace in our lives and soul.

Thank you God, for the water, the sun, the air, please bless it and us in all of this world, in all of it’s directions, with your Holy Spirit, and the newborn God.

Amen.

We so often find love in the midst of death and darkness, thank goodness for that. I find my own sorrow is lessened with the company of dear friends who also are bearing the sorrow.

The Psalms of the bible are songs. They were to be music, with singing and dance. My psalm is a song of grief, but it is woven with great love and faith. I think of how Earl would sing and Marci would dance.

In the Master’s program, in Earl’s stewardship class, he asked us to write a psalm. I wrote one, born of loss I was experiencing at the time and also greatly from Earl’s teaching and care he showed me and the class. I offer it again today for Earl and all who grieve:

Psalm:
Sacred Life, Love Eternal

Source of all Truth and Love,
Love in fullness and maturity,
Love of all Time, ever enduring,
Source of all Goodness,
Please, hear my cries of sorrow, sounding from the heart of my smallness.
Like a wolf, the grief seizes my throat.
Please hear my silent calls for you from the bottom of the deep well of loss.
I gaze upward; I see a graceful, strong three trunked tree stretching skyward.
You grace me with understanding in feeling and seeing.
Your compassion is unimaginably deep, profoundly outstretching, like the tree,
Like Beloved Jesus, who calms me, calms the waves of grief washing over me.
Your love is discreet, filled with dignity.
Your love is eternal and refreshing, like pure spring water flowing
Softly on a shining day.
As clouds gather and oppress me, when coldness seeps through me,
You do not leave. You never leave me.
Your Divine Mystery is my safety.
Your gaze is strong and knowing, making me squirm like a child.
Your Spirit’s Grace is unutterably good, ever unfolding, unceasing.
Your power takes hold within me, I tremble, I falter.
Dearest Holy Spirit, your unbelievable depth saves me, daily.
Your Holy Spirit cleans my breaking heart, tenderly embracing every piece of me.
Source of Holy Grace, send me your Love now,
Untold, unsaid, unutterably holy, hold me now in your understanding.
You have found me crouching in a hidden space,
Crying under the weight of death, and the ironic emptiness.
While life is still unfolding,
Please hear my praise for your Grace and Presence. You will not leave me.
This Love is Sacred and unending.

-C.S.S.

Advent, Plastic, Immigration and God:

A good friend of mine was embarrassed to tell me that she uses a plastic baggie to pick up her dog’s poop on walks. Embarrassed because she assumed that I would judge her, and that my own practices in relationship to plastic are pristine, maybe because I bring up the problem so much. I was surprised, and added sadly, that I too, use plastic baggies, and that I am trying to get a hold of some biodegradable ones, but they are only available on-line, and in small quantity for more money. I remain, like each of us, lacking, yet still trying dearly to make life affirming/healing choices.

It is like when I was asked if I eat meat. I said I do not eat farm animals. They responded sharply, “Do you wear leather shoes?” As if from my one sentence I had claimed to be pure and separate from the rest of the human race because of my choice to be compassionate. People want things to be cut and dried, black and white, rich and poor, dead or alive, pure or deficient, so that they do not have to suffer through the ambiguities, the contradictions of being and the pain of all the imperfect striving, trying and complicated living we all do. It isn’t fun to fail or to not live up to ideals or to disappoint people who want to look up to you, like a doctor or a pope.

I look at the packaging of my breads, chips, toothpaste, apples, vegetables in my hands, and two of my reusable shopping bags are made of nylon which is made with oil, just as the baggies are for dog walks….I realize this…
The truth of the situation is that if I were to live separate from plastic, I would not be living in this society. There is no purity, there is no perfection in this world. Our connections are linked and threaded through so deeply, there is no extrication of anything from anything else, at least not as things stand now. This does not mean that everything is futile. Action still has great impact and discernment still has enormous value. Sometimes it has to be “little by little”, as Dorothy Day would say.

And I cannot look at the daily defeats of plastic in my life each day and be defeated. This is an issue that is so urgent that we need to persist despite the thoroughness of its penetration in our lives. What a strange problem we have.

Plastic is as all things are, from the earth, though manipulated to beingness by men, still, natural to the planet. Yet its existence seems unnatural in light (a thinly veiled pun, sorry) of the way it does not deteriorate as most things do. So only light can break the stuff down and only into microscopic particles.

Listening to Studs Terkel today on NPR was so strengthening. His voice of wisdom and integrity is so needed. He is keenly aware of the fact that we need a great change. And he raised his blessed voice and said the truth, “We are all immigrants. This anti-immigration hysteria is obscene!” Indeed, we are all immigrants, and if there was a deep acknowledgment of this perhaps we could bring a historical healing to this country, who Terkel said has always been in conflict.

Mistakes, failures, defeats are not definitive of our identity or our value. They are par for this course. We choose how to respond, and maybe on our best days of achieving our ideals we actually fail in yet other ways, maybe in relationships in a personal or spiritual sense, what have you.

There are always ways in which to change and grow, hopefully, we believe this. Perhaps we will not see the benefits of our positive and lasting actions in our lifetime, and maybe we will. And we may have to wonder and not know, because we have been glued and sown to so many empty idols, and have missed, so many times, the Divine Presence –sitting quietly with us the whole time in awesome compassion that scares us with the breadth and depth of it. No, it isn’t either/or, and it is both/and.

I fail all the time, and it is embarrassing sometimes. But I learn and I realize one cannot attain perfection, and that is not even the point of this life. I know goodness and God in appreciating, in feeling gratitude in realizing beauty in graced moments, as I have mentioned before. It is the importance of recognition: Love all around me and all around you, and the sick, and the poor, the immigrants.

This cannot be stressed enough in this clamoring Christmas season. Advent is so not about clamoring or purity or perfection. Oh, Advent, I feel such a tear (like the tearing of fabric) within me at this time. Loss of loved ones is felt keenly now. Material possessions clamor for our attention. The desire to give, but with a swirling pushing confusion in finding what is meaningful. The desire and longing for wholeness, healing, truth, courage….

I want to sit still and contemplate Jesus’s mother, the Mother of God. In Luke she treasures all the gifts and happenings surrounding her child’s birth. She contemplates them deeply in her heart. I want to imagine her, protecting her thoughts and memories of the time with pure love–the gift of a child who has the capacity to hold the Divine within as no child has done before. His voice is filled with so much truth that thousands of years and translations do not muffle His Holy Spirit.

What a painful time it is, to seek that dirty manger within and grow faith strong enough to believe the King of Kings wishes to be born there, again and again. To learn from the Mother of God to nurture my love with maternal contemplation.

To have compassion is to “suffer with”, that is the meaning. First thing everyday, the Divine is having compassion with us, no matter how dirty or polluted our home, life, heart or mind is. With an invitation for each of us to seek to be Great in compassion too. The sooner we can dive deep into this knowing the sooner we can participate in the Holy Spirit’s movements in our lives and others lives. Like I mentioned yesterday, to be remembered, nothing is impossible for God, as this was mentioned in Luke as well.

Thank you for listening to my musings and genuflections today,

may you be blessed with grace filled recognitions of love this season,

with gratitude and prayers,

CSS

p.s.
Beth Terry left a great comment and has a lot to positively contribute re: plastic….