I Could Have Praised More

August 5th marks the fifth anniversary of my mother’s death. Not a day goes by in which I am not aware that life is without her now. I miss her, I will always miss her. I miss the Dots and donuts. Miss the far-too-pink-pink lipstick she was never without. I miss the licked fingertips, circling plates of blueberry scone crumbs. I miss every Christmas she made special. Every morning Mass we held hands together. I miss the tonic of her open ear. I miss the way her mouth would smirk and her eyes would twinkle with fiendish delight as she caught a glimpse of mohawked hair walking down the street. Her fondness for the sight of the ocean. Movies giggled together at ungodly hours in the night. I miss the comforting of tears, both hers and mine. I miss her joy over life’s joys.

I am also tempted at times to miss the things that never happened, too. I miss the births and years we never got to cheer each other through. I miss the laughter at silly stumbling toddlers we never shared. I miss the memories that were never ours. That were never meant to be . . . Ah, this is a dangerous missing, though. To miss things that never were.
But I have learned through the wisdom of grief, to let things go. To let these musings release themselves into the fickle winds of childish fantasies. The only reality I want is that which He allows to happen. Terminal brain cancer? Christmases without grandma? So be it. Thy Will be done. I do not miss her so well that I’d give up even one second of her joy in Eternity for the sake of prolonging her stay in this valley of tears to appease my attached nostalgia. Alas, as much as I may cry sometimes over this story, I don’t really want a different one either. Because it is my story. The only one I have been given. My gift. So, I praise Him still and I praise Him more.

I should like to share something with you, my dear reader. Not long before mom became ill, she wrote a letter for a Catholic Women’s Homeschool Newsletter, Mother of Divine Grace. I believe it is proof that God does not choose the equipped but rather equips the chosen. I hope it benefits you in even some small capacity . . .

September, 2009
My Dear Homeschooling Moms,

They say that a brush with death can give you a new lease on life and they are right. This summer, on a near fatal rafting trip, I was given the gift of my life and a deeper understanding of the value of it. The day was as beautiful as you can imagine: gorgeous scenery, a slight breeze, quiet conversation, and for four and a half peaceful hours, my friend and I glided softly along over a shallow and serene river. We talked often about God and noticed so much of His creation. Once, a little doe stepped out of the woods to notice us. After some easy little rapids, we rounded a bend and suddenly realized our friendly little river was picking up speed. The raft began to move very fast. We swirled, lunged and hit violently into a huge fallen tree which snared us and caused the raft to deflate. (Later we learned that the lowness of the river was why it appeared so safe to us and to others who got into similar trouble, and why we were most likely caught on the sunken old tree.) As the water began pouring in, my friend found her phone and called 911. Just after that we capsized. She was able to cling to the roots of the tree until the sheriff’s boat reached her. I went under the water and was swept down river. I will never forget the rushing and roaring sounds, the feeling of not being strong enough, the bubbles, the surface and finally, the rock. I’ll never forget that big, flat, wonderful rock!

But why do I share my story? Well, before I tell you that, I must back up a few days before the rafting trip to a simple homeschooling moment that I will also never forget. My son was translating some Latin phrases, one of which was “Poteram magis laudare”—I could have praised more. Those words hit me very, very hard—almost as hard as our raft hit the tree. And believe it or not, they were in the back of my mind when I emerged from the water that day. As I felt, yes, felt, the Hand of Jesus in the river and on the rock, I clearly understood that He was giving me again the gift of my life and the gift of being able to praise Him one more day.

No surprise, I also suddenly felt, more than ever, the sheer loveliness of the created world: the green trees, the blue, blue sky, even my wet clothes, and I knew that to acknowledge and enjoy these things can be a fling of the heart back to our Father. I was so very grateful, and happy. But no Pollyanna here, I also felt the seriousness of it all, that our days are all of them numbered and that we will have to give an accounting of them. That’s where my Latin praise comes in. . Poteram magis laudare.

The next part of my story is very hard to articulate. The spiritual writer, Caryll Houselander, wrote these words in London at the start of World War II: “Now I do feel we’ve just got to shut our eyes and dive into this sea of Christ—dive with the trust of people who can’t swim and yet go straight into the dark water.” I do know how to swim, but beginning when I was under the water and lasting for about a week, I lived the meaning of those words. I felt protected, warmed, enclosed by Christ. I was in Him as one is in water. I actually needed no faith to believe in Him, and this happiness, I assure you, was profound. It is over now, of course, and I am back to the practice of faith. But here is the reason I want to share my river experience with you. Maybe you need to be reminded, as I did, that you are in God, surrounded by Him, and that you have a chance to praise Him more today than you did yesterday. And maybe you need to be reminded by a homeschooling mother who is sending her youngest off to college that life is beautiful but short, and that each day is oh, so valuable. C. S. Lewis said, “Live each day as if it were the last day at your post but also as if you had a hundred more years at it.” That’s the challenge, isn’t it ladies? To understand the serious business of life as well as to have room, to make room for joy. “The journey is never safe but there will always be those cups of cocoa along the way.” (C. S. Lewis again)

Lastly, I’m a little embarrassed to tell you that the day after the rafting experience, on my way home from morning Mass, I suddenly blew a kiss to a street person. I’m not exactly sure why I did that but I know he is important to my story. It might have been my new lease on life or the grace and clarity I had for those few days. After all, he is my brother and “Poteram magis amare” . . . I could have loved more too! But will you allow me just one more quote that I think ties it all together? “This is a wonderful time in which to live, a time when nothing can be taken for granted, a time to stand up and take sides in a world that sees not the suffering Face of Christ.” (Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen)

God bless,
Julie