Meditation: Jesus comes into the world to die for the world. We are born to suffer and die. This is the problem that walks with me, dogging my every step. Memories of Lizzy dance with tiptoes, glinting like fairy lights around every corner, and yet the problem of human pain and death thuds dully behind…
Meditation: Jesus arrives in the hearts of believers. This past weekend, I visited the Saint John Paul II Shrine in DC, followed by vigil mass at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. While Cecilia was asleep in her stroller, I cried my way through most of the exhibit on JPII the Great, a saint…
It has been more than 5 years since my grandfather passed away, but for some reason this week, I have been unable to stop thinking about him. It began on Thanksgiving Day with a vivid memory of potato gardening with him in the backyard of the house where my mom grew up. With pitchfork in…
Meditation: Jesus enters the world as a helpless infant in Bethlehem. Lizzy was born on March 20, 2017, and Cecilia was born on May 5, 2019, so there is only a 1.5 month lapse between them. This means that I was significantly pregnant with both of them throughout two winters, two Advents, and two Christmases….
I do not have a monopoly on grief, nor on pain, nor on suffering. When Lizzy died, I joined the ranks of untold billions of mothers from the origin of the human species who have watched their children die, and watching, wished to die themselves. When I speak of Lizzy’s death as the worst thing…
The MRI came back clean, meaning that I do not have soft tissue cancer. I am immensely grateful for this reality, but it has also been hard to focus on gratitude since the reality of a divorce and pending custody trial has been coloring the past month of my life. The thing about grief is…
A few months after Cece was born, a depression developed in my upper thigh that looked like abnormal muscle or fat loss. My primary care physician referred me to an osteopath who ordered an MRI to rule out soft tissue cancer, which affects 3,000-4,000 people in this country every year. Last night, my big sister…
For no particular reason, the last few days have been very difficult. I find myself crying more often than usual and shaking my head in wordless, dumb frustration at the total irreversibility of what has happened. There is a piercing quality to memories of her, which still surface constantly, which are simultaneously unbearable and so…
There is a mama doe and her two fawns that live outside of my sister’s house. I see them almost every day, when driving home from an appointment, when leaving to go on a walk, when taking a piece of mail to the mailbox in the evening, or when stepping outside in the morning sunshine…
“Take this sinking boat and point it homeWe’ve still got timeRaise your hopeful voice, you have a choiceYou’ll make it now Falling slowly, eyes that know meAnd I can’t go backAnd moods that take me and erase meAnd I’m painted blackWell, you have suffered enoughAnd warred with yourselfIt’s time that you won.” – “Falling Slowly”…