My name is Susan Bailey and I find the life of Louisa May Alcott endlessly fascinating. I come from New England (specifically Massachusetts) and my family has been here in one form or another since the 1630′s. I live fairly close to Concord, MA where Orchard House, the homestead of the Alcotts, is located, and visit often. Every few years or so I go on a reading ‘binge’ about Louisa and this time around was so good, I just had to start a blog about my passion. The binge, by the way, still goes on!
I’ve been happily married for over 30 years and my husband is a deacon in the Melkite Church (Eastern Catholic – I am Roman Catholic). We are proud parents of a grown son and daughter.
I’ve worked happily for the last 17 years at Rutledge Properties in Wellesley, MA, supporting the agents in the office.
And in my ‘other life,’ I’ve performed, written and recorded music exploring my Catholic faith. I have a website (www.susanbailey.net) where you can hear samples and find out more about this. I sing at various masses at my home parish of St. Luke the Evangelist in Westboro, MA.
Other interests include history (especially photographic), nature (especially bird watching), and I have the same ‘inordinate love of cats’ that Louisa had. :-)
The Gospel reading for this Sunday is the story of the tempting (or testing) of Christ in the desert wilderness (Luke 4:1-13).
We’re told that after his baptism in the Jordan River but before undertaking his public ministry, that Jesus fasted for 40 days.
After his fast, he was tempted.
Luke describes three temptations:
To give into thinking that the needs of the body are all that matter;
To worship something or someone other than God (idolatry);
The three temptations can be stated in another way: We can be tempted into believing that our bodily or physical needs are all always the most important, or the only ones. (And yet, we know that the world is full of well-fed, full-bellied, in-shape people who experience life as meaningless and without purpose. The soul matters.).
Forms of idolatry
We can be tempted into making our work, our popularity, or money, our possessions, or a whole host of other things, the center and goal of our lives. (But this is simply a form of idolatry. God calls us to a more abundant path of love. But God sets the priorities along the path. We neither invent nor determine them.).
Trying to control God
Finally, we can be tempted into trying to manipulate God into serving our purposes. (“I’m a good person, I go to church, I give to the poor. But I smoke 2 packs of cigarettes a day. I’m sure God will take care of my health and protect me from any illnesses. “I know my son drinks excessively and drives. But I put a Miraculous medal on the dashboard. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Oh really?)
In the wilderness, (and at other times in his ministry) Jesus was tempted in ways similar to these.
All are tested
What we can forget is that this story is the story of every Christian. In the wilderness of the world, each of us has and will be tested. Sometimes we resist, sometimes we fail.
treat-depression.com
And, what’s more: In every age, the Church has been tempted in these ways. And in every generation, the Church resists and the Church succumbs to the temptations. That’s because the Church is made up of imperfect, sometimes weak people, like us.
Temptations are part of our journey through life. The Gospel on Sunday tells us that there would be more ahead for Jesus. (That’s the last line of the Gospel!) Doing what is right is sometimes a struggle; even like an inner battle of sorts. Temptations can teach us a lot about ourselves too.
But God’s Spirit leads us, as it did Jesus.
Pray to resist evil
We pray that this same Spirit would impart the grace to resist what is evil. When we fail, may the Spirit lift us and give us what we need to mend what we have broken or injured.
Above all else, may that Spirit give us vision to see beyond the wilderness of this imperfect, broken world.
Eyes to see that eternal, undying Easter, where God’s love has triumphed over our every test.
The word “Lent” is derived from the old English word for “springtime.”
The word gives us a clue as to what Lent is all about.
Lent is about a “springtime” and rebirth of new life.
It is not so much a season in the external world but a season of renewal and new life within individuals, relationships and communities. Lent is about Christ calling you to springtime (new life) within yourself! Lent is the Church’s springtime.
On Ash Wednesday, ashes are placed on the foreheads of Christians.
Ashes evoke death and mortality. But ashes are also used as a cleansing agent and as fertilizer for gardens. We begin our journey of Lent by reminding ourselves of the fragility of life and of own mortality. As the old proverb goes: “No one really starts to live until he or she squarely faces death.”
The number 40 calls to mind the 40 days of rain during Noah’s flood, when evil was drowned and earth was washed clean. It calls to mind the 40 years the Hebrew people journeyed in the wilderness to the promised land. Also, Moses, Elijah and Jesus are said to have fasted 40 days to prepare them for their mission. The days of Lent are often compared to a journey. That means that at the end of Lent we should expect to find ourselves somewhere different from where we started.
Lent is not just about “trying harder” or “giving up.”
Lent is about re-awakening the presence of God in our lives. It invites us to “spring clean” our lives: throw out the rubbish and reclaim the spirit within that appreciates being alive; letting go of the “junk” that gets in the way of loving in the Spirit of Jesus Christ.
Here is a song of mine you can pray with as you enter into Lent called “Lead Me to the Wilderness.”
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Some ways we can observe Lent:
Fast from TV and computer.
Television and electronic devices now absorb 40% of our free time. Take some of that time back and use it with your family or be with your friends. Go to a meeting or group where your voice needs to be heard on behalf of children, the mentally ill, the rights of the unborn, poor families, or those dealing with addictions. Volunteer where you are needed.
Fast from eating on the run.
Make eating together a priority during Lent. When we eat together, more than food passes between us. We share our lives, difficulties and delights. We create bonds and strengthen relationships. Commit to eating with others at least twice a week. Invite people who might otherwise eat alone to share lunch or dinner with you.
Fast on Fridays.
Catholics are enjoined to abstain from meat on Fridays. The point is not to simply substitute jumbo shrimp or Maine Lobster for steak! (What sacrifice is there in that? C’mon now!) The point is to eat a simple meal by subtracting the meat part. Then take the monies saved and give to an organization that helps fight hunger or one that feeds the hungry like the St. John’s Food Pantry. Vegetarians can join in by eating more simply and donating what is saved to a relief agency.
Simplify your Life.
Do you have more clothes than you need? Is your attic or basement full of unused stuff? Are your children’s closets brimming with unused toys and games? Consider cleaning out part of your home and donating the unused stuff to a local charity as a Lenten project for your family. The Saint Vincent de Paul Society in Worcester accepts used clothing. The Urban Missionaries of the Poor in Worcester will use unwanted furniture to assist needy families. (Think of this: there is a scientific connection between “clutter” in your home and your stress level. De-cluttering can be a first step in de-stressing your life. There is peace in simplifying. What a wonderful way to observe Lent.)
Make life more welcoming to others . Visit a shut-in or are an elderly relative or neighbor. Offer some time to helping a family or an individual dealing with a personal loss. Run some errands for someone who can’t get out of the house. Drive someone to their doctor’s appointment. Walk the Stations of the Cross in church. While walking, think about a person who is carrying a heavy cross in life. Let that person know you are praying for them.
Examine your Consciousness.
At some point each day sit still. Turn off the devices. Tune out the noise. Breathe in, and breathe out. Allow yourself to be still for a while. Savor the quietness. Ask yourself how God may have been teaching you something this day. What have I learned today? Do any regrets surface that I could act upon? Am I holding on to any negativity? What am I grateful for? What could I change within myself to face tomorrow with more energy and hope? Ask the Holy Spirit to help you with this.
Listen Attentively.
Give to a spouse, a child or a friend 15-30 minutes of undivided attention. No cell phone interruptions. No texting. Make no comments, positive or negative; give no advice. Just give the gift of listening. Ask questions to clarify only. Attentive listening can help a person sort out a problem or recognize a desire or a direction by simply hearing it aloud. Pray regularly for the grace to be a good listener.
Reflect and learn.
Take the time to reflect on the scriptures proclaimed at Mass. Participate in a Bible Study. Or, go to www.sacredspace.ie for a daily reflection on the scripture from your computer. Or, read a bestselling book likeMy Life With the Saints orJesus: A Pilgrimage both by James Martin. Or, take some of the Lenten materials available in the vestibule of the church and use them daily. Participate in our Jewish Passover Seder Meal on March 6th and learn about the Jesus’ faith and the Jewish roots of our Catholic Mass and understand the Mass more deeply
Contemplate Beauty.
The media bombards us daily with images of violence and corruption. Entertainment is often focused on what is most “shocking” in order to attract attention. Have you neglected to incorporate “beauty” into your daily regimen? Go to a lecture, hear a concert, see a play, visit a museum. Gaze upon the beauty of human creativity. Go outside. Take weekly or daily walks and look around..really look around. Take in the beauty of creation. Be grateful for being able to take it in. Sit quietly in church. Look at the beauty of the artwork. Think about all the people that have prayed there before you. Open the hymnal before Mass. Prayerfully read the lyrics of the hymns for Mass. They are inspired poetry. What might they be saying to us? Go to Saint Joseph’s Abbey in Spencer and listen to calming chant of the monks there.
These are but a few ideas on what you might incorporate into your Lenten practice this year.
Everyone is in a different place in life. So the practice will be different for each person.
What matters is that we dare to do something that will open us more deeply to the presence of God and the gift of life so that we may grow more deeply in faith, hope and love.
If we have grown, even a little, to live in the Spirit of Jesus our Lenten ‘springtime” will not have been in vain.
We just got hit with a couple of back-to-back snowstorms, bringing back painful memories of last winter here in the Northeast (four feet of snow!). I love to feed the birds and have often wondered how they survive blizzard-like conditions.
Just to show how wonderful creation can be, here is a very informative article about how birds survive storms. They may appear to be small and helpless, but obviously their Creator has equipped them well for survival.
With threats of a monster blizzard barreling towards the Northeast this weekend, many people are stocking up on supplies and planning movie marathons. But how will the birds survive the storm? The answer is threefold: Location, preparation, and adaptation.
Shelter in Place
When bad weather hits, birds generally seek shelter in microhabitats, such as inside a thick hedge, or on the downwind side of a tree—in this case, being petite has its advantages. Hunkering down in these spots can protect them from wind, rain, and even cold (it’s warmer closer to the ground). Birds that nest in cavities, including woodpeckers, bluebirds, and chickadees, can also hide out in their tree holes.
This Sunday’s gospel is about some fishermen who encounter Jesus. (Luke 5:1-11)
One of the fishermen, Simon Peter, is so overwhelmed by his meeting Jesus that he actually tells Jesus to go away. Yes, he really says that to Jesus.
“Go away from me, for I’m a sinful man.” In other words, “ Leave, please leave … I’m not good enough.”
Have you ever had the experience of feeling “not good enough?”
Not “good enough” to make the team.
Not” good enough” to be invited to that party.
Not “good enough” to be her friend.
Not “good enough” to be loved by him.
Not “good enough” to be remembered or thought of… by “them.”
One of the saddest experiences of being a priest is when I ask someone to serve the church in some way and instead of a smile of acceptance, I see a bewildered face that replies:
“Father, I’d love to… but… I’m not good enough. I’m unworthy of that…”
(In other words, I’ve got some stuff I’m not proud of. I’ve got “skeletons” in my closet. I’ve got a past. There are parts of my story I don’t want to share or for you to know about.)
Like Simon Peter, we cannot imagine God passionately in love with us, who so often have felt “not good enough.”
But that is the “mystery” of God: that God loves us despite ourselves. We’re loved anyway. (Hard to really get that through our heads sometimes, isn’t it?)
Notice that Jesus refuses to heed Simon Peter’s request “to go away.”
And Jesus goes on to tell him. “Don’t be afraid.” ( In other words: Don’t be afraid of being imperfect. Don’t fear your humanity. That’s the way you were made. God will put it to good use.)
My morning prayer begins with a deck of cards. Not playing cards but prayer cards with pictures of my favorite saints. I have amassed quite a collection—seventeen to be exact. Each day I begin my walk with God by inviting each saint to walk with me.
In the beginning …
It began thirty years ago with St. Anthony of Padua. He was a must-have saint when it came to our baby boy losing his pacifier. Our son preferred the old-fashioned kind, the kind that was hard to replace. St. Anthony became a good friend in short order, always finding that pacifier (whether it was the old one or a new one at the store).
For many years St. Anthony was the only one. I had trouble figuring out how to talk to God and also make room for other heavenly friends in the conversation. It made the room feel crowded.
Growing the list
Then, a few years ago, an improbable event occurred in my life: I was asked to write a book. Having never done anything like that before and having no formal education in writing, I knew I needed help. And that’s when my list of saintly friends began to grow.
Teresa, Therese, Bernadette …
Saints Teresa of Avila and Therese of Lisieux were the first to make the list. Both were reluctant writers and both relied heavily on God. I even used some of St. Therese’s own words in River of Grace.
Next I saw “The Song of Bernadette” and became enamored with her. In reading her biography I was intrigued by her ability to be absorbed in thoughts of God even when surrounded by large crowds. I wanted that ability. Now I ask her for it every day.
Paul and Cecilia
I clearly remember the time and place where I first encountered St. Paul—it was in the middle of an emergency (stuck in traffic and desperate for a rest room!). St. Paul the marathon runner came to mind and I asked him to run with me and help me endure the pain. He did. Now I always ask him to run with me.
St. Cecilia is restoring my love of music. There was a time not so long ago when I wanted nothing more to do with music having been a performer for many years. But then, God invited me to join the choir at church and I turned to St. Cecilia. She has been working overtime for me, securing blessings which fill my heart up again with the sounds of music.
Meet my saintly friends: Top row, L to R: St. Teresa of Avila, Venerable Bruno Lanteri Row 2: St. Therese of Lisiuex, St. Francis de Sales, St. Lawrence, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Francis of Assisi Row 3: St. John the Evangelist, St. Paul, The Blessed Mother, St. Martin de Porres, St. Cecilia Row 4: Sts. Monica and Augustine, St. Nicholas, St. Anthony of Padua, St. Bernadette, St. Christopher
Bruno, Nicholas and Francis
Last year I had the pleasure of meeting Venerable Bruno Lanteri, the founder of the Oblates of Mary Immaculate. Through author Father Timothy Gallagher, I met the man who would do anything to hear a person’s confession. He sought out the discouraged, helping them to rise and begin again.
St. Nicholas has become one of my favorites. While searching for a patron saint of finances, I was delighted to find that the man who inspired Santa Claus was that saint. His wisdom and generosity could inspire me to seek guidance in the handling of money, and healing for a heart made stingy by past financial troubles.
And finally there is Francis of Assisi. I am a crazy cat lady with many friends who love animals. And each day I ask St. Francis to remember them all.
Making room
Each day as I take a few moments to flip through my prayer cards I realize how rich my life is with all my saintly friends, all because I opened my heart and made room for them. Doing that reminds me to the same with my earthly friends, especially those in need.
It will be wonderful traveling through Lent this year with so many helpers.
Meet my seventeen special friends
SAINT
PATRON SAINT OF
WHY I PRAY TO THIS SAINT
St. Teresa of Avila
Writers
She was a reluctant writer and attributed all to God – helps me keep my perspective. She led me through River of Grace. Doctor of the church
St. Therese of Lisieux
Writers
Also a reluctant writer and master of insight into the sacredness of the everyday. She also led me through River of Grace. Doctor of the church
St. Francis de Sales
writers and journalists, because he made extensive use of broadsheets and books both in spiritual direction and in his efforts to convert the Calvinists of the region
His gentle face inspired me
St. Lawrence
librarians, archivists, cooks, and tanners
(and comedians!)
Inspired by his literal trial by fire, I ask him to put his fire into my writing; as I make use of libraries and archives, I ask for his help
St. Thomas Aquinas
Writers (students)
I turn to him for knowledge and understanding as I write – particularly clinging to him because of my Alcott biography
St. John the Evangelist
Writers
St. John was eloquent and mystical in his writing – asking for that in mine.
St. Paul
missionaries, evangelists, writers, journalists, authors, public workers, rope and saddle makers, and tent makers
My marathon runner partner! He runs next to me when I need endurance.
Venerable Bruno Lanteri
The confessor—encouraging the discouraged to make peace with their failing, get up and start again
I turn to him whenever I have fallen and feel discouraged. His caring demeanor attracted me.
Mary, the Mother of God
Bringing God’s children home to the sacred heart of Jesus through her own immaculate heart
I ask Mary our Mother to bring all of us home to her Son Jesus.
St. Martin de Porres
Mixed Race, Barbers, Public Health Workers, Innkeepers
private intention
St. Monica
and St. Augustine
Mothers—praying their children home
private intention
St. Nicholas
those in financial need
For wisdom in handling our money and for healing of stinginess (after all, he is the model for Santa Claus!)
St. Anthony of Padua
lost and stolen articles
For finding anything, from lost objects to lost thoughts!
St. Bernadette
illness, people ridiculed for their piety, poverty, shepherds, shepherdesses, and Lourdes, France
For humility and holy absorption
St. Cecilia
musicians
Offering my music through her
St. Christopher
travelers and of children
For help with driving, especially at night
St. Francis of Assisi
animals and the ecology
For all animal lovers, especially my kitten cam friends
This Sunday’s gospel tells us that Jesus began to speak publicly in the synagogue (Luke 4:21-30).
At first, the people seem to like what he has to say. “And all were spoke highly of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.”
But then, things suddenly change.
Jesus makes a reference to Old Testament story about how God worked great deeds through some non-Jewish folks in the past.
He infers that God’s grace is being extended beyond the Jews to Gentiles.
And that’s when things start going downhill…literally.
When the people hear this, they drive him out of his own town. They are furious.
They even try to throw him down a hill.
But Jesus escapes and moves on to the next town.
The story raises some good questions about the gospel we hear on Sundays.
The message of Jesus wasn’t meant to please audiences the way political candidates sometimes craft their messages to please their audiences and to get applause.
Jesus was popular as long people liked what he had to say. When they didn’t, popularity wasn’t one of Jesus’ assets.
I wrote a book about loss and grief. In a second book, I included passages from an author who guided me through my loss and grief.
And yet, I am afraid to share that story with others.
Sounds absurd–after all, both books have been published and are available for the public to see. But I am glad I don’t have to be there when the book is read. Well aware that grief is uniquely tailored to the individual, I feel utterly unqualified to say anything about it, face to face.
Mysterious … unpredictable …
Grief is mysterious, unpredictable, you might even say, capricious. I can’t tell you how many times grief has decided to drop in when I am in front of other people. It has often visited in the form of tears and I have to hide away until it passes. It has also visited on too many occasions when I’ve sung in public, crippling my voice or simply rising up in the form of irrational fear.
When I read this story by Claire Fallon, Virginia Woolf’s Guide To Grieving, and how she connected her grieving over the loss of her mother to that of Woolf (both lost their mothers near puberty), I realized it is, in fact, important to share our grief stories.
Comfort through companionship
Fallon derived a lot of comfort from Woolf, not because Woolf offered consolation or answers, but because she was a companion on the journey. Fallon found a like mind in Woolf which helped her work through grief that had been bottled up inside for many years.
My companion
Reading Louisa May Alcott did that for me. Alcott offered no quick answers, no “5-step plan,” and certainly no skirting of the truth of suffering and death. Instead, Alcott shared her beliefs about death through her stories and they just happened to match mine. I was numb with grief at the time I took up reading and found that turning the pages of my mother’s antique volumes of Little Women, Aunt Jo’s Scrap-Bag and An Old-Fashioned Girl (all marked with her personal nameplate) and reading Alcott’s words helped me remember my mother when she was healthy and vital.
The best way to help
My process did not take as long as Fallon’s but it reminds me yet again that the best thing I can do to help someone who is grieving is to just be there to listen. And when it’s appropriate, share a few stories.
The value of writing
Alcott and Woolf had the courage to write it down and share it with the public. Writing has a way of uncovering what is really going on inside of you. Writing doesn’t have to be public to be helpful–keeping a a journal and writing letters to others (handwritten, as opposed to email) can help a great deal. But if you choose to share stories through the written word or through conversation, you have to own it.
The gospel this coming weekend tells us that Jesus while in Nazareth went to the synagogue on the Sabbath. At the appointed time, he was handed a scroll from which he read the appointed reading for the day.
Jesus was a Jew. Sometimes Christians forget this: Jesus was a Jew.
Jesus was raised in a Jewish home. Like all Jewish males, he was circumcised. When he was 13, he had a Bar Mitzvah. He celebrated Hanukkah and Passover. He learned the Hebrew scriptures. He prayed the psalms. He made a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem. And today, we’re told that he was in the habit of going to the Synagogue on the Sabbath.
Last Sunday, Pope Francis visited the Synagogue of Rome. He reminded those present that there is an inseparable bond between Christians and Jews. He spoke of how Christians and Jews are called to work together to overcome all forms of violence and terror.
But he added a rather interesting observation:
“In order to understand themselves, Christians must understand their Jewish roots.” In other words, if you want to understand what it means to be a Christian, you have to seek to understand the faith out of which the Church was born. And the Church was born within a Jewish matrix.”
One reason why we sing or say the responsorial Psalm at every Mass is because the psalms are the prayers that Jesus grew up with. When you pray the psalms you are praying what Jesus actually prayed.
When the deacon or priest carries the Gospel book to the lectern at Mass, he is imitating the rabbi carrying the Torah scroll to the reading desk.
The unleavened bread we use during Mass, evokes the unleavened matzo bread of the Jewish Passover, reminding us that we are all called to leave behind “Egypt” –whatever places or relationships that imprison, enslave or oppress. “Exodus” is a on-going part of life.
As a Jew, Jesus understood that God had intervened in human history; that the human story was not arbitrary or meaningless. We Christians see the human drama, despite its tragedies, as headed toward an ultimate fulfillment and destiny. That’s why hope is characteristic of a Christian.
And there’s so much more…
How could someone tell the story of your life without understanding what means to be a 21st century American?
So, how can we claim to understand Jesus and his message without understanding his Jewish faith?
How could we say that we really know someone, without striving to understand from what and where they come?
Let’s pray for a Church that honors her roots;
for an openness to understanding more about our connection with the Jewish faith;
for a future where we find strength for living from the wisdom our past;
and for overcoming the amnesia that would keep us from understanding who we are.
I would like to extend to Father Steven and his parishioners a hearty congratulations for the reopening of the fully renovated rectory at Holy Family! Three of the four suites in the home will be used to house retired priests. This is the first time that I can recall a parish literally being brought back from the dead (Holy Family is housed at St. Joseph’s Church on Hamilton Street, once slated for closing in the 1990’s, and saved by the parishioners). This is indeed a happy occasion! You can read more about this amazing story at the Catholic Free Press website.
The long Christmas break (along with the mild weather) is over and reality comes back with a thud. The prospect of a long winter ahead is daunting especially with memories of the epic snowfall amounts of last year still haunting many of us.
I once anticipated January with dread. Winter can be dark, oppressive and confining: the arctic air and biting winds… the deep snows burying the landscape … ice covering the streets and sidewalks … darkness that greets us when we rise and meets us at the end of each work day.
January is a quiet month. Birds don’t come to the feeder; their songs no longer greet me in the morning. Crickets and locusts have gone silent at night.
January was a month without life.
Then I read Henry Beston’s classic, The Outermost House. Beston chronicles a year of his life spent in solitude in an isolated one bedroom cottage which he built and christened the Fo’castle. Built in 1925, the 20 ft. x 16 ft. cottage was located at the edge of Coast Guard Beach in Eastham (now part of the Cape Cod National Seashore). Named a National Literary Landmark in 1964, it was washed out to sea by the Blizzard of ’78.
Originally planning to spent two weeks at the cottage, Beston was so taken with the “beauty and mystery of this earth and outer sea … that [he] could not go.” During that year he wrote of the change of seasons and its effect upon his surroundings: the birds, animals, and insects; vegetation; the sand and the waves; the stars in the night sky. His prose is poetic, painting vivid pictures of color and texture. He describes the chaos and despair aroused by a devastating blizzard which nearly washed away his cottage, putting his life in peril. Yet even in the bleakest of settings, Beston’s writing inspires wonder and awe.
The Outermost House changed my perception of January because of Beston’s descriptions of arctic birds migrating down from the north, resting on the beach in the dead of winter. That description lifted me out of my own small circumstance and reminded me that life still goes on around me.
There was not only life, but light in the darkness: “Light came slowly into the world, coming not so much from the east as from some vague, general nowhere – a light that did not grow brighter but only increased in quantity.” It reminded me that by the end of January, the sky becomes pink again by the time I leave the office. The days are growing longer and the light, brighter.
January is not unlike time spent in the womb, waiting to be born. The caterpillar metamorphoses into a butterfly within the confines of the cocoon and breaks through into the sunlight. The baby, its delicate features forming nine months inside the dark, protective womb of its mother, emerges into the light at birth.
We just celebrated the coming of such a baby who brought his eternal Light into the world. His Light pierces the darkness and brings new life.
So, rather than give in to the melancholy that can come with the conclusion of Christmas and the reality of winter, I seek instead to embrace this Light. It may be cold, snowy and dark outside but within, that Light will increase in brightness and quantity as I take advantage of the quiet of January to bask in it.
The arctic birds are returning to the Outer Cape. The days are growing longer. In the repose of January it is time to partake of the Light of Christ.
The long Christmas break is over and the letdown is leaving me a bit melancholy. The stretching of the heart that comes with the empty nest made full, and then made empty again, hurts.
Both of our adult children were home for the holidays. Our daughter spent both Christmas Eve and morning with us despite the fact that she also needed to see her fiancé’s family (she got engaged in November). Our son spent the week with us, having come up from New York.
Each time they come it’s an adjustment, requiring me to make room, not just in my house, but in my heart. Of course I do it without hesitation, but it is still an adjustment. It took me ten years to get to where I enjoy the empty nest.
The room is made and is filled only to be emptied again; it continues to surprise me how much it still hurts when they go away. Eventually this room fades into the background, waiting for the next time it will be needed. Slowly the new life I began when they left the nest filters back in and it soothes my heart.
This has been the conundrum for me with regards to the empty nest, this making room. I find it requires a heart that is vulnerable, supple and open. It requires a bit of courage, even for the creation of the smallest of rooms.
I distinctly remember the day I created that first room. All of a sudden the barriers came down and I announced to my husband that I was ready to have children. That moment came after several years of chasing a dream of being a professional musician, an all-consuming passion. I soon found out that motherhood is equally all-consuming; something had to give. I sold off my recording equipment, put the guitar away and immersed myself in my babies. It was not a hard choice. Love facilitates room-building
After five years the desire to write and record songs returned and it became a painful tug of war. Creative work requires large blocks of quiet time and as any mother knows, that time is non-existent, especially if you also work outside of the home. There were plenty of moments of guilt and regret and before I knew it, my children were grown.
So many moments of great joy and pride. Moments of heartache and sorrow. My heart was exercised and stretched in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
Would I do it all again in the same way? Probably. Do I miss those childhood years? Very much so. Am I haunted by some leftover regrets? Sometimes. But it’s nice to have found a resting place in this empty nest.
In the meantime, I can enjoy the companionship of my grown children. Watching their burgeoning careers, enjoying pictures of the new apartment, marveling as they learn how to cook and make a home, meeting the significant others and reveling in the engagement and planning for the wedding all make for a rich post-childhood life. We share dreams and hopes for the future. The blossoming of my children into well-adjusted adults is an enormous blessing. As the song goes from The Sound of Music, somewhere along the way, “I must have done something good.”
Sara Björk The heart, Flickr Creative Commons
So, I will continue to make room. The stretching will continue to hurt but it makes for a strong muscle. And while waiting for the grandchildren, I will hug and kiss my cats in anticipation.
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Be as One 