Be You Very Well

In one of those strange arrangements of Providence, this post is about what occurs after the marching on–which I wrote about in my last post (a long time ago)–is done. When we have fought the good fight and finished the race, as my 100 year old neighbor just did, we pass on. For those of us Christians still marching this is truly one of life’s most challenging transitions because we are both grieving a loss and celebrating a gain, just not our own. Last year we lost a truly dear man when Grandpa passed on the day after I wrote that last post. He was one of the most kind and gentle souls you could ever meet and his absence has been keenly felt by all of us, especially Grandma.

At that same time a dear friend from my young child-rearing days across the country passed on due to cancer and my favorite Wal-Mart greeter, with whom I shared a special rapport, also passed. It was hard to lose each of these special people but I rejoiced in their gain. And now our kind mayor, who is our next door neighbor, has lost his mother, our across the street neighbor, at the ripe age of 100 and so the cycle continues.

Birth, life, death. Starting, struggling to adjust to this wildly new environment, struggling to figure things out (especially all those big people who make weird sounds with their mouths!), and then going along at your own pace through the ups and downs of life (perhaps like those frustrating times as a teen) until major milestones occur, such as graduation, perhaps marriage or a religious vocation, the possibility of children and grandchildren, that–I’m told–underappreciated second half of life, and then the winding down of things if we are blessed with the gift of a long life like my neighbor’s.

I’m not sure what all kinds of events will be passing by in 2014 but I imagine there will be more people passing on. I hope and pray that I can treat each day as a gift and do the best I can to live it in the present moment and not fret over the past or worry over the future, two things I’m continuing to work on as my life marches on.

May this day find you fighting the good fight until the time comes to pass on to the best that’s yet to come.

From The Sacrament of the Present Moment, Jean-Pierre de Caussade, trans. Kitty Muggeridge

When the senses are scared, faith, taking everything in good part and for the best, is full of courage and confidence….To live by faith, then, is to live in joy, confidence, certainty and trust in all there is to do and suffer each moment as ordained by God. However mysterious it may seem, it is in order to awaken and maintain this living faith that God drags the soul through tumultuous floods of so much suffering, trouble, perplexity, weariness and ruin. For faith is needed to discover in all this God and that divine life which can neither be seen nor felt but, nevertheless, in some mysterious way, unmistakably reveals itself….

Living by faith and the instinct of faith are the same thing. It is joy in God’s goodness and trust founded on the hope of his protection; a faith which delights in and accepts everything with good grace….Faith always lives in God and his works even when they seem harmful and blind the senses. Scared, they suddenly cry out: “Wretch, you’re lost! At the end of your tether!” And faith immediately replies yet louder: “Hold fast, march on, fear nothing.”

March on. I like that. Here’s to marching on in the face of fear when, despite our difficulties and failures, all we have to do is keep walking–or marching–by faith. And the simple prayer “Jesus, I trust in you” never hurts either.

There are many days when this doesn’t feel true. And there are many days when it may not be true for some of us–at least not in this mortal coil. But I thought of this quote and wanted to share it here because it comes to mind from time to time when I am anxious about something and it comforts me. Because, in the long run, it really is true.

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

–Dame Julian of Norwich

“Illness can be a pilgrimage. Marriage can be a pilgrimage. Any moment, really, where we recognize God’s presence can be a pilgrimage…Life itself is a pilgrimage…We are all on a journey toward God. It is up to us to decide whether that journey will be about simply surviving the daily challenges or becoming a pilgrim on the road to union with our Creator.

Spiritual friends are natural companions on the pilgrimage journey. Even when they can’t be physically present to us for some reason, they can be present to us spiritually through shared prayers, conversations, discussions about spiritual readings, and simply talking about their lives.”

Walking Together: Discovering the Catholic Tradition of Spiritual Friendship

Mary DeTurris Poust

Do The Next Thing

From an old English parsonage,
Down by the sea,
There came in the twilight,
A message to me;
Its quaint Saxon legend,
Deeply engraven,
Hath, as it seems to me,
Teaching from Heaven.
And on through the hours
The quiet words ring
Like a low inspiration–
“DO THE NEXT THING.”

Many a questioning, many a fear,
Many a doubt, hath its quieting here.
Moment by moment,
Let down from Heaven,
Time, opportunity,
Guidance, are given.
Fear not tomorrows,
Child of the King,
Trust them with Jesus,
“DO THE NEXT THING.”

Do it immediately;
Do it with prayer;
Do it reliantly, casting all care;
Do it with reverence,
Tracing His Hand,
Who placed it before thee with
Earnest command.
Stayed on Omnipotence,
Safe ‘neath His wing,
Leave all resultings,
“DO THE NEXT THING.”                                                   

Looking to Jesus, ever serener,
(Working or suffering)
Be thy demeanor,
In His dear presence,
The rest of His calm,
The light of His countenance
Be thy psalm,
Strong in His faithfulness,
Praise and sing,
Then, as He beckons thee,
“DO THE NEXT THING.”

-author unknown

I first heard of this poem through Elisabeth Elliot almost two decades ago and ran across a pamphlet version of it this morning. It was so encouraging to me that I thought I’d post it here as I imagine I’m not the only one who needs friendly reminders from time to time to avoid overthinking one’s To Do list and just get on with your duties, leaving the outcome in His hands.

From today’s daily mass readings comes more encouragement–and this time from an infallible source–for those in the midst of affliction.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we many be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.

2 Cor. 1: 3-6 RSV

It’s good for me, whose spiritual life often functions like the not so great aspects of my ADHD brain<g>, to have reminders that all our sufferings are not in vain, especially when they feel like they’re getting the best of us–even if we never find out in this life why we had to endure them.

Here’s to helping us better trust God that our sufferings, as well as those of our loved ones (and really everyone everywhere), are all a part of His plan, whether or not we get cc’d on that plan. As Corrie ten Boom sagely said, “God does not have problems, only plans.”

I just reread this encouraging passage quoted in Jan Karon’s Light From Heaven and couldn’t resist sharing it. If I’d run across it during the past several months perhaps I wouldn’t have had such a long hiatus in posting<g>, as health issues have been weighing me down and I’ve had to stick to the essentials of Getting Through Each Day. Anyway, without any further ado, here is something to ponder and perhaps share with a loved one, as we all, as a friend of mine who is in hospice care helps remind me, have trials to bear, whether they be big or small. Additionally, I know that her ministry of blogging, begun after the cancer diagnosis, constantly strengthens me for my smaller trials because of her decades of courageous example of bearing up under other trials for so many years before this devastating one.

If the trials of many years were gathered into one, they would overwhelm us; therefore, in pity to our little strength, He sends first one, and then another, then removes both, and lays on a third, heavier, perhaps than either; but all is so wisely measured to our strength that the bruised reed is never broken. We do not enough look at our trials in this continuous and successive view. Each one is sent to teach us something, and altogether they have a lesson which is beyond the power of any to teach alone.

H. E. Manning

Thank you, Debbie–http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/debbieschafer–for being a living reminder of God’s graciousness to us in the midst of our trials!