Transformation, II

When I went to Portland to hear Father Rohr speak, back in the fall of 2008, I was at a very difficult point. Katie had been dead for just over a year, and I had started to realize that she wasn't coming back, ever. A new kind of reality and grief was dawning, and it was raw and painful.

My dad had just had surgery, and he was feeling vulnerable and afraid. My mom was having difficulty with this. Their struggles were hard to watch.

I invited my niece, Andrea, and her mother-in-law (Katy) and sisters-in-law (Peggy & Libby) to go with me and hear Father Rohr. Andrea couldn't go, but the others, who are devout Catholics, came with me and my mom on the road-trip. Gregg and David stayed home and took care of my dad.

"Two universal and prime paths of transformation have always been available to every human being God has created: great love and great suffering. Only love and suffering are strong enough to break down our usual ego defenses, crush our dualistic thinking, and open us up to Mystery. They, like nothing else, exude the mysterious chemistry that can transmute us from a fear-based life to a love-based life.

"No surprise that the Christian icon of redemption is a man offering love from a crucified position…. Love and suffering are the main portals that open up the mind space and the heart space, breaking us into breadth and depth and communion."

Excerpted and adapted from “Opening the Door: Great Suffering and Great Love” from The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See

Father Rohr said almost these exact words on the 2nd day of his talk. These words shook me to my core.

They affected me deeply and personally then, and they still do. All I could think of at the time was that Katie and her illness had done this for me.

You may remember that at Peggy's urging, I stood in line to meet Father Rohr. I don't like to invade "celebrities'" privacy, but it felt like the right thing to do, to meet him. I stood as other people asked him to sign their books, and didn't know what I was going to say. I got nervous, and then the thought came to pull out the photo of Katie and me with our heads together - the one that Paul took of us on Andrea and Mike's wedding day.

(Thanks to Stephanie S. for this version of the photo)

I pulled out a little wallet-sized copy of it, and held it until it was my turn to speak to him. With shaking hands, I pushed the photo across the table to Father Rohr, and said, "This is who taught me to open, through love and suffering. It's my daughter, Katie, who died of cancer last year," and then I dissolved in tears. He stood up, and the tenderness he exuded is impossible to describe. He asked if he could hug me. We embraced, and I pulled myself together.

I told him that my question is, How can I remain open? How do I stay that way, and not close down and go to sleep again? He told me clearly that, once your heart is open, you cannot go back; it will not close down again.

I don't understand this, but I am trying to live into it.

Last week, I met with Katie's hospice nurse on Tuesday, and her oncologist on Friday. I am doing research for two presentations, one to a group of Ph.D. candidates in Physical Therapy, and the other for the Hope and Empowerment Event in Indianapolis. I am going back in time to recall what happened to us, how it happened, and what was available to us that made it tolerable, that helped...really, where was the presence of God in it with us? This is not what I am being asked to address, but it's what I can see in it.

We had hospice care, right here at home. Did you know that pediatric hospice care is NOT AVAILABLE to families in many parts of the country? It's not even an option for some families. I was so shocked when I learned this that I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I canNOT imagine what it would have been like to care for my dying daughter without the support of a hospice nurse, who visited our home several times a week, and was available by telephone 24/7. I am preparing to speak about this.

Interviewing Amy and Dr. Park was good, and it was difficult. It brought back sweet memories, and hard ones. It gave me resources to follow up, and things to use as I gather my thoughts and shape my words.

One of the resources Dr. Park suggested I use is the old blue binder that Seattle Children's Hospital gave to us when Katie was admitted as a patient. It contains her treatment plan, guidelines for parents and patients, what to expect and how to deal with it, and paperwork. That blue binder has been packed away in a plastic box in our loft for over a year. I forgot we even received it, let alone kept it.
Yesterday, I ventured upstairs and opened the box.

I took out the binder.

I opened it, found Katie's lab reports and pharmacy receipts, and promptly doubled over on the floor, on my knees.

I think that's what the expression, Bring her to her knees means.

And I think that is a perfect example of what Father Rohr was describing.

Loving Katie led us to accompanying her and caring for her in the midst of hell on earth. Loving her and caring for her led to suffering and surrender. Watching her die was suffering and surrender, but it was done with great love and tenderness, and we were held in great love and tenderness. Love, suffering, surrender, breaking open..."a man offering love from a crucified position."

I can see that, in working on these talks, I am going to have to go slowly, gently, and allow myself to stop and rest. It's hard terrain to walk through once. But if I want to be able to help others, I have to be willing walk through it again - at least, through my memories.

If you are suffering, I send you love and am in solidarity with you. Let us watch and see how Love appears in the spaces in our suffering; I pray that it will be very clear and make its presence known to all of us. Amen