Dear Mr. President,
As I have had a week to reflect on the Newtown Massacre that killed 20 innocent children's lives, my heart aches. Not just because of the loss of life at such a young age, but for the parents, the siblings, the grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, that lost a precious part of their lives.
I mourn for the children that were witnesses, that in moments lost their innocence. I mourn for the families across the nation that are puzzled by what to say to their children.
I grieve for the souls of people who choose to do such evil. I grieve for their parents, siblings,grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends who have to live with the reality that perhaps they could have loved more.
Unfortunately, Mr. President, that got me to think about you. You are in favor of killing innocent lives everyday. Since your presidency, more babies have been killed then ever before and it happens everyday. But you don't seem ashamed. You don't have any remourse. So when you stand on national television and cry for the loss of 20 innocent lives, I can't help but call you a hypocrit. Your words of comfort are empty, because six years ago, you would have agreed to the murder of all 20 of those children in their mother's womb.
Abortion, Mr. President is murder. Until YOU stand up to stop the evil of murder you allow everyday, you have no right to chastise the murder that took place in Newtown. Until you use your position of power for good, this evil will always exist.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
December 21
3 months ago today Vivi was born again as she entered Heaven to begin her new eternal life. Being the non-date person I am, it took me by surprise this morning as Rod reminded me, by wasn't much of a surprise as I know she was talkling to me last night.
Rod was sick yesterday, so I brought home some movies from RedBox that we could enjoy while he was on the mend. After the Avengers came the Odd Life of Timothy Green, a movie I have wanted to see since our stay with Vivi in the hospital. Every time I would see the preview for this movie, I always thought, 'I know this is how Vivi is....such a special kid'. Little did I know how many similarities I would find to my life in this movie.
Allow me to start by saying, I don't think that this movie is up there for grieving parents to watch. For some reason, Rod and I have watched a couple movies that have hit very close to home unknowingly. The story of Timothy Green begins with Cindy and Jim (parents) who are sitting listening to the doctor share with them that they will never have children. After going home, they decide to one last time write down all the qualities their child would have, put them in a box and then bury it in the ground. Through the night, a surprise guest enters their home--Timothy. Immediately he calls them "mom and dad", and as Cindy and Jim notice leaves growing from his legs, he explains that he has come from the garden. As the story unravels, Timothy brings such joy and love to all the people he meets, while fulfilling each characteristic that Cindy and Jim buried in the box. But as each characteristic is fulfilled, Timothy looses a leaf. Once all his leaves are gone, it is time for him to go back to the garden. After he leaves, a letter is read that he placed back in the wooden box. You find out that each of his leaves that fell off he has given away to someone. Each person that he gives them to is a better, more loving person because of him.
Ok, so here I am watching this...crying (no real surprise there) but the entire time I couldn't help but think about Viv. This world is such a better place because of her. Her little light of love brightened even the darkest spaces in 59 short days. Today Mass was celebrated in her honor at St. Lawrence--what an amazing gift of remembrance that our lives are being born and then death, but being born twice--onto this Earth and into Heaven.
We love you baby girl! :)
Rod was sick yesterday, so I brought home some movies from RedBox that we could enjoy while he was on the mend. After the Avengers came the Odd Life of Timothy Green, a movie I have wanted to see since our stay with Vivi in the hospital. Every time I would see the preview for this movie, I always thought, 'I know this is how Vivi is....such a special kid'. Little did I know how many similarities I would find to my life in this movie.
Allow me to start by saying, I don't think that this movie is up there for grieving parents to watch. For some reason, Rod and I have watched a couple movies that have hit very close to home unknowingly. The story of Timothy Green begins with Cindy and Jim (parents) who are sitting listening to the doctor share with them that they will never have children. After going home, they decide to one last time write down all the qualities their child would have, put them in a box and then bury it in the ground. Through the night, a surprise guest enters their home--Timothy. Immediately he calls them "mom and dad", and as Cindy and Jim notice leaves growing from his legs, he explains that he has come from the garden. As the story unravels, Timothy brings such joy and love to all the people he meets, while fulfilling each characteristic that Cindy and Jim buried in the box. But as each characteristic is fulfilled, Timothy looses a leaf. Once all his leaves are gone, it is time for him to go back to the garden. After he leaves, a letter is read that he placed back in the wooden box. You find out that each of his leaves that fell off he has given away to someone. Each person that he gives them to is a better, more loving person because of him.
Ok, so here I am watching this...crying (no real surprise there) but the entire time I couldn't help but think about Viv. This world is such a better place because of her. Her little light of love brightened even the darkest spaces in 59 short days. Today Mass was celebrated in her honor at St. Lawrence--what an amazing gift of remembrance that our lives are being born and then death, but being born twice--onto this Earth and into Heaven.
We love you baby girl! :)
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
December 19
Yesterday afternoon I went to Mass. The priest that was saying Mass was unlike any other priest I have ever experienced. I felt like Christ was standing in fron of me, pouring our His love through this man. It truly was an expereince that left me reflecting of the graces we receive through our vocation.
His homily reflected on Joseph, and the thought process he might have had after finding Mary with child. Jospeh went through Advent kinda out of the loop. He wasn't there for the encounter of Mary and Gabriel. He wasn't there for the encounter of Mary and Elizabeth. He wasn't there as Mary encountered God. Yet, when told in a dream not even by God, but and angel, to 'not be afraid to take Mary as your wife', his faith moved him to say 'yes. Let it me done unto me as you say'.
I never before have meditated on Joseph in depth. Needless to say, this was a catalyst that started my wheels turning. I have always thought about Mary--and even more so as I journeyed with Vivi. However, Joseph touched my heart in a new way. Mary had encountered God--she knew that although there were some question marks, there was obviously some security in knowing that if God asked you to carry his son, everything would be worked out. Joseph's "yes" to Jesus, is more parallel to our everyday "yes"s. Not too often does God send an angel to ask us to do His will. Our 'yes's are sometimes a bit more of a hazy look cast over our face trusting that our 'yes' is what God is asking.
Emmanuel, God is with us, is possible because of both 'yes's; Mary and Joseph. It is because of the faith of Mary's "Let it be done according to your word" and the faith of Joseph's obedience to the angel's command in the dream, that Christ is living with us, EMMANUEL! These past few days the faith and love of the Holy Family has been so close as I also reflect on Rod and my family. We are living Advent. Although there is still grief and sorrow that time is slowly healing, there is an undercurrent buzz of excitement and hope of what God has for us now.
His homily reflected on Joseph, and the thought process he might have had after finding Mary with child. Jospeh went through Advent kinda out of the loop. He wasn't there for the encounter of Mary and Gabriel. He wasn't there for the encounter of Mary and Elizabeth. He wasn't there as Mary encountered God. Yet, when told in a dream not even by God, but and angel, to 'not be afraid to take Mary as your wife', his faith moved him to say 'yes. Let it me done unto me as you say'.
I never before have meditated on Joseph in depth. Needless to say, this was a catalyst that started my wheels turning. I have always thought about Mary--and even more so as I journeyed with Vivi. However, Joseph touched my heart in a new way. Mary had encountered God--she knew that although there were some question marks, there was obviously some security in knowing that if God asked you to carry his son, everything would be worked out. Joseph's "yes" to Jesus, is more parallel to our everyday "yes"s. Not too often does God send an angel to ask us to do His will. Our 'yes's are sometimes a bit more of a hazy look cast over our face trusting that our 'yes' is what God is asking.
Emmanuel, God is with us, is possible because of both 'yes's; Mary and Joseph. It is because of the faith of Mary's "Let it be done according to your word" and the faith of Joseph's obedience to the angel's command in the dream, that Christ is living with us, EMMANUEL! These past few days the faith and love of the Holy Family has been so close as I also reflect on Rod and my family. We are living Advent. Although there is still grief and sorrow that time is slowly healing, there is an undercurrent buzz of excitement and hope of what God has for us now.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
December 9
It has been a long time since I have wanted to write. There have been moments in the past weeks that I have felt obligated to write, but knew that the true sincerity that I would want to convey would be absent. This past week, I have had God invite me to share my heart again. For the sake of length of this post, I just want to say Thank You.
As we have celebrated Thanksgiving, and as we move through Advent, my heart is full of thanks to each of you. Thank you for your prayers, thanks for your comfort. Thank you for your support, whether it be spiritually, physically or finacially. Thank you for your encouragement, for your love. "Thanks" is a word we throw around so often that in these moments that I want it to mean something so deeply, I feel that it isn't quite enough. What word is there though? I can't seem to find one that works for me. Nonetheless, thank you....thank you.....thank you. Each of you, whether we see you often, we know your name, or we have never met, know that each of you have left an imprint on my heart that is shaping me more fully into the woman I am called to be. For this, there aren't words.
Weeks ago, during a Rosary before the election, God gave me a beautiful image. I was in the darkest moments since Vivi had died. Sitting before him in adoration, I looked at my right hand. The day after Vivi had died, I was explaining to Rod what I was going to do to the main wall in our living room. As I was waiving my arms around the wall, my right palm snagged a nail. It hooked into my skin and dragged down. Needless to say, this was extremely painful, and as blood was oozing out of it, we both were questioning if I would need stitches. As the oozing blood-flow calmed slightly, we could see that it wasn't too deep, but it would leave a scar. I tried to put a few band-aids on it, but they wouldn't stay for 2 reasons. 1.) because it was an awkward spot and 2.) because I am right handed so I would move my hand in ways that made the already awkward spot more awkward.
The first few days, I was INCREDIBLY cautious with what I did with my hand. I couldn't wash it without a sting, move it without bleeding...how difficult it was to be right handed and not able to use my right hand. But after a few days, I kinda forgot it was there. I got out of the shower and was putting on lotion and rubbed it all over the injury. OUCH!!! I will admit, not nice words came out of my mouth as I quickly remembered the reason why I was avoiding right hand usage. For a few more days I was incredible cautious. But after about a week, although there was a scab over the cut, the skin was getting tougher and tougher--I could wash my hands with little or no discomfort, and although lotioning was a bit tricky, the sting didn't last as long. Sitting in adoration, a month or so after the incident, I looked at my hand--it hadn't been at the forefront of my mind for weeks that my right hand was temporarily maimed. I could still see the scar that would be left- a pink puffiness haloed the area. But, what I had never noticed before, the cut began at the end of a line already in the palm of my hand. Fully healed, this scar would seem like it was always meant to be there-just an extension of a crease already in the palm of my hand. Looking up at Christ in the Monstrance, I knew He was telling my this is just like my heart without Vivi here on Earth.
When Vivi died, my heart was cut open. There were a few moments when salt was thrown into my wound--not by malice on any person's heart, just because of the nature of my situation in relationship with theirs. But like my hand, the scar is healing....it's just a part of me. Day by day life becomes more liveable, more manageable. I am having more good days with 'bad moments' than bad days with 'good moments'-- the mark Vivi has left on my heart will always be there. But everyday, the scar is healing, becoming more and more a seemingly natural part of me.
As we have celebrated Thanksgiving, and as we move through Advent, my heart is full of thanks to each of you. Thank you for your prayers, thanks for your comfort. Thank you for your support, whether it be spiritually, physically or finacially. Thank you for your encouragement, for your love. "Thanks" is a word we throw around so often that in these moments that I want it to mean something so deeply, I feel that it isn't quite enough. What word is there though? I can't seem to find one that works for me. Nonetheless, thank you....thank you.....thank you. Each of you, whether we see you often, we know your name, or we have never met, know that each of you have left an imprint on my heart that is shaping me more fully into the woman I am called to be. For this, there aren't words.
Weeks ago, during a Rosary before the election, God gave me a beautiful image. I was in the darkest moments since Vivi had died. Sitting before him in adoration, I looked at my right hand. The day after Vivi had died, I was explaining to Rod what I was going to do to the main wall in our living room. As I was waiving my arms around the wall, my right palm snagged a nail. It hooked into my skin and dragged down. Needless to say, this was extremely painful, and as blood was oozing out of it, we both were questioning if I would need stitches. As the oozing blood-flow calmed slightly, we could see that it wasn't too deep, but it would leave a scar. I tried to put a few band-aids on it, but they wouldn't stay for 2 reasons. 1.) because it was an awkward spot and 2.) because I am right handed so I would move my hand in ways that made the already awkward spot more awkward.
The first few days, I was INCREDIBLY cautious with what I did with my hand. I couldn't wash it without a sting, move it without bleeding...how difficult it was to be right handed and not able to use my right hand. But after a few days, I kinda forgot it was there. I got out of the shower and was putting on lotion and rubbed it all over the injury. OUCH!!! I will admit, not nice words came out of my mouth as I quickly remembered the reason why I was avoiding right hand usage. For a few more days I was incredible cautious. But after about a week, although there was a scab over the cut, the skin was getting tougher and tougher--I could wash my hands with little or no discomfort, and although lotioning was a bit tricky, the sting didn't last as long. Sitting in adoration, a month or so after the incident, I looked at my hand--it hadn't been at the forefront of my mind for weeks that my right hand was temporarily maimed. I could still see the scar that would be left- a pink puffiness haloed the area. But, what I had never noticed before, the cut began at the end of a line already in the palm of my hand. Fully healed, this scar would seem like it was always meant to be there-just an extension of a crease already in the palm of my hand. Looking up at Christ in the Monstrance, I knew He was telling my this is just like my heart without Vivi here on Earth.
When Vivi died, my heart was cut open. There were a few moments when salt was thrown into my wound--not by malice on any person's heart, just because of the nature of my situation in relationship with theirs. But like my hand, the scar is healing....it's just a part of me. Day by day life becomes more liveable, more manageable. I am having more good days with 'bad moments' than bad days with 'good moments'-- the mark Vivi has left on my heart will always be there. But everyday, the scar is healing, becoming more and more a seemingly natural part of me.
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