The Threads of the Whole Cloth (Dad, skip this)

"Catastrophe is the essence of the spiritual path,
a series of breakdowns
allowing us to discover the threads
that weave all of life into a whole cloth."
Joan Halifax, Being with Dying: Cultivating Compassion and Fearlessness in the Presence of Death

If this is true, it means I am a part of that cloth, as are you. My joy, my sorrow, my essence, my gifts and flaws are part of the cloth, as are yours. We are all connected. All of life, not just my life, or yours, or Katie's; ALL of life. Not just the happy times; the bad times, too. The ocean, the people in the Bible, in the middle ages and those not yet born; animals, plants, all of life is woven into "a whole cloth."

And by Richard Rohr:
"Mary...has given herself completely to God, even without understanding all that would mean. She doesn't understand, yet she is willing to 'stand under' the mystery and the mercy of God. She is a woman of faith—not the woman of knowledge Eve had wanted to be. She is the model of faith for every woman and man who believes the Lord's word can be trusted. She is willing to outstare the darkness, however long it lasts."
from Great Themes of Scripture

For a mother who is watching her child die, that darkness is very great indeed. I wonder what Mary was thinking, as she stood at the foot of the cross, watching her son die an agonizing death. I wonder what she thought of the path that they were taking as a mother and son.

It's quite a different scene from the Annunciation.

It takes an enormous amount of love and faithfulness, a very open heart, to walk that path. I am not talking about virtue or earning anything; I am speaking of opening to grace, because it is grace alone that makes it possible, in my view. I certainly didn't have the wisdom or goodness to do the job; all I had was love, a love that grew and grew as we went along the path of illness, suffering, treatment, progress, relapse and death. I don't understand it, nor do I try to; but I stand under it, too, with Mary's example as a light to my path. Perhaps Love poured in as things got harder, as we needed it more.

Father Rohr writes:
"Give us faith to believe, Father, not in just some new, happy life, not in some good fortune in the future, but give us faith in the now that seems so empty." --Days of Renewal

We do not always get to pick and choose our experiences; sometimes, they come upon us, they are simply given to us. Because of the experiences of Katie's illness and death, at times it is difficult to keep my heart open. It sounds like hardness, but I suspect it is fear, because I have been so deeply hurt by this. There is a strong urge to protect myself from further pain. But closing my heart is the way to be cut off from God, from "the whole cloth" of life, and that is a kind of living death that I do not want.

Father Rohr says it for me:

"Loving God, give us the gift of prayer...Give us the courage to reveal ourselves, because, Lord, you have not been afraid to reveal yourself. We need and want to expose our deepest heart to you, just as you have exposed your heart to us...
"Put your arms around us and call us each by name. Call us daughter and son...Tell us it's OK, because we're so afraid, and we feel so bad about who we are...we want you to take us into your embrace. We pray together as your sons and daughters and we pray in Jesus' name. Amen." -- The Price of Peoplehood

Tomorrow is the 16th. It's that day, "the worst day ever."

I appreciate the prayers, cards, calls, emails, comments, donations to Katie's endowment and the packages from you.

Thank you for remembering our sweet girl with us.

Thank you for holding sacred space around our time of grief, especially tomorrow.

We are going to go to our favorite beach, walk for miles, and think of her. We will have dinner in one of her favorite restaurants. We will revel in the joy, beauty, spunk, humor, wit and sparkle that was, and is, Katie.