Love in Death

I’ll never forget the moment as a child when I realized my parents could die. I thought my heart would wrench itself from my rib cage. I couldn’t breathe. I was devastated. When I could no longer stand the night’s darkness and sadness alone, I ran down the hallway on my bare feet, and my parents wrapped their loving arms around me as I wept.

Tonight for my William and Abby, the trigger came surprisingly from the last chapter of a story we thought we knew well. We were all curled up throughout Abby’s room with special lovies, blankets, and pillows, as I read through the last pages. A few sentences caught me off guard myself, but I didn’t realize the depths of my children’s hearts they were reaching. Sweet loving babes.

William was the first. His face hidden in his pillow, he wept for his granddad and gripped the stuffed lion with the heart on its paw, the last gift from a sweet man who loved Valentine’s Day. Abby quickly followed. My steady Abby suddenly appeared downstairs. One minute she was thinking of puffy pink unicorns and the next she was unexplainably scared.

Their daddy hugged them, and I spoke gently, stroking their brows and holding them on my lap.

Our hearts with their great capacity to love can hurt so when that love feels lost, but we must remember that one of God’s greatest gifts is that death does not take that love away. It enables us to be with that love always. For if God who is always with us is love, and we love our loved ones so, then even when they go to be with God they are with us always in God’s love. We are so blessed to have the time to build many, many memories to carry with us in our hearts so that when we do feel that hurt our memories will remind us of our love and comfort us.

Death is not easy, but in it God’s greatest gift of love is revealed in its rawest form. Jesus reminds us of this.

Dear children, I love you so. Hurting does happen, but love does heal. May you find comfort in the love of your mommy and daddy, your grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, and each other. You are surrounded by our love and God’s, always. Your hearts are so big. I love the way you love and care.

With love and light,

LT

Oh, Anger, Go Away

Anger is a frustrating emotion that not only damages the recipient it incapacitates the initiator. It is the ultimate cover up. It hides the sadness or pain someone may be feeling by coming out as an attack instead of a cry for help. It dismisses the tiredness, stress and anxiety of recent days, weeks, months or years with a loud voice that really needs quiet and rest. It often lashes out at the people that could bring the most love and care to ease the angered's woes. 

Oh, anger, go away. Let's be honest with one another and seek shelter in each other's love instead of hiding behind our anger.

Try peace.

Try rest.

Try forgiveness.

Try quiet.

Try kindness.

Try love.

Feel better.

With love and light,

LT

Red Sox Win! Lighting Up the Darkness

Boston is celebrating today after last night’s win of the World Series, and I am glad. I am glad that even after a great shared sadness like we experienced with Boston last spring, hope and celebration continue to shine out and remind people that we can overcome the ugliness that the world sometimes brings.

Only a short time after the twin towers were hit on 9/11, I found myself crammed into an office with my boss and two priests collaboratively writing a response and prayer about the tragedy that we were only just beginning to experience. It was my second day on the job.

With the Red Sox win last night, I was reminded of my later response to the Boston Marathon tragedy. As the commentators at the game referenced the Boston bombing, I recalled my reflection and prayer that shortly followed.

It’s hard to sleep some nights when you know the world is aching around you. I imagine God is aching, too. God is aching that his lost child could harm so cruelly, to hurt, to maim, to hatefully lash out.

Gods’ great love embraces and surrounds those wounded. The heart of hearts is swelling with power and greatness and rising up above the evil performed.

Life has been lost. But we are still living. We are sad, but on this dark night, the crickets are still singing.  We must raise our voices in song as well. Our numbers will swell. Our sound will ring out. We will drive out the darkness. We will overcome the hateful with our love. We will live. We will live. We will live.

My friends, unfortunately, in this world we live in, bad things do happen. But even on the darkest of days, the sun sets and the sun rises again. There is always light in the darkness.

Consider the power of the sun, that swirling mass that lights up our sky and illuminates the moon in the night.  Isn’t it a comfort in itself? The sun is just a star. The moon is just a rock, but God is all light, and God is all love. Now, imagine that power in your life. It is with you even on your darkest days.

With love and light,

LT

In the Back of the Room

Early in life, my mother gave me the choice between gymnastics or dance lessons. I had to choose one. I remember it being a tough decision, but I ultimately choose dance. I alternated between teal green matching tights and leotard and a sky blue ensemble and enthusiastically arrived for each dance lesson prepared for what instruction awaited me on those wooden floors.

Over the years, my lessons increased from two days a week to every day of the week. I delighted in each class whether it be tap, jazz or ballet and expanded my studies to include two different dance studios.

It may sound cliché, but when I dance it truly is for the love of dance. I love the way I can feel every muscle in my body tightening or releasing into the correct shape or movement. It feels like strength and balance and beauty all at once. Everything is in the right place if only for a moment before changing to the next position. It is energizing and empowering and joyful. The beat of the music courses through my body and my muscles surprise me as they move to the rhythm. In a word, it just feels good.

I can still do all of my time steps and gracefully glissade across a floor, but the dance lesson that strikes a chord the most strongly with me is not a dance lesson at all; it just took place during a dance class.

At some point during high school, some of the coming-of-age social issues I had struggled with seemed to compound. I can’t put my finger on exactly what was causing my anxiety at the time. It was too long ago and being a teenager can be confusing. I know that there was a boyfriend. There were also girls that weren’t too pleased about the boyfriend. There were friends that turned out not to be friends and there were comparisons to others that didn’t quite seem to fit me. It was confusing. I was sad.

At my dance classes, I started to move but not with the music. I started to move to the back of the room. Without saying anything from week to week, I moved myself from the front row to the middle row and finally to the back where I lifelessly executed the required steps. It didn’t seem to matter. I was still back there participating. I didn’t think much of it actually. I was pretty wrapped up in just being sad.

Then, one day, I was surprised. After a week or so of hanging out in the back row, my dance instructor Mr. Joel, walked straight towards me in the middle of a class and said these words to me, “What are you doing here in the back?” That was it; that was all he said, and he walked away. It was just enough though. It shocked me out of my pity party. Wow!

Those simple words, “What are you doing here in the back?” made me realize that I had put myself there. No one else had put me there. I had taken my joy away from myself. I had separated myself from one of the greatest gifts I had been given at that point in my life.  I was shocked…at myself.

Mr. Joel’s words took the wind out of my lungs, but they also did more than that. They blew away the selfish sadness I had used to cloud my judgment. Although, I wasn’t completely healed of my anxieties, those words inspired me to take ownership for my role in letting those anxieties get the better of me. They allowed me to say that I could control my happiness as well as my success.

I didn’t want a cloud of confusion or sadness to get the better of me anymore.

As slowly as I had moved to the back of the room, I began moving to the front of the room again. By the end of my senior year, I was dancing wholeheartedly again and I felt good again. I felt successful.

When the senior awards were announced at the end-of-the-year recital, I clapped proudly as a friend of mine was recognized for her great skills and dedication. She deserved it! What I didn’t expect was to have my name mentioned as a close and second runner up. It was quite an honor as well as recognition of those slow steps that I took back to the front of the room.

You see the thing is, no one else can put you in the back of the room and no one else can put you in the front of it again except for you. It’s a very hard concept, especially when you’re sitting in the back. But believe me, you can do it. You may be surprised or shocked when someone points it out to you but be glad and do something about it! Only you can!

·      Think of the ways you put yourself in the back of the room at school, at work or socially.

·      Have you gone back and forth? What did you learn from each of these experiences?

·      What talents do you or do you not live into that bring you joy?