The Sigh of the Weary

Well, it’s been quite a month. Here’s anoth­er weird post.…all my issues,with just a tiny bit of Father Michael. Late one night in July my broth­er called to tell me that he was tak­ing my moth­er to the hos­pi­tal ER.  I knew that like­ly we wouldn’t know my mother’s sta­tus for a while. I tried to sleep that night , but my head was spin­ning and I couldn’t stop think­ing and wor­ry­ing. So I lay awake and then I felt I ‘heard’ Father Michael’s voice telling me to relax and pray . And he said “I want you to just keep pray­ing ‘Into Your hands I com­mend my Spir­it’. I ques­tioned this as I asso­ci­at­ed those words with the sad moment of Christ’s death. “Oh no,” Father M said,” they are words of trust and hope! Keep say­ing them!”  I did fall asleep then and when I woke in the morn­ing those words were the first I thought. And they kept com­ing back to me and calm­ing me, all through the crazi­ness in these last six or so weeks: ultra­sounds, CTs, angiograms, arte­ri­ograms, stents, ampu­ta­tions, debride­ments, EKGs, echoes, more ampu­ta­tions and debride­ments, mild heart attack, par­a­lyzed vocal cords, men­tal con­fu­sion and per­haps a ‘lit­tle can­cer’ i.e., a spot on the lung, etc, etc. But my lit­tle prayer has kept me going, despite it all. Thanks so much Father Michael,my help­ful friend!  Thanks too, to my sis­ter and broth­er, who have shared in the med­ical excite­ment. And our hos­pi­tal saga with my moth­er con­tin­ues…

And the crazi­ness spilled over ! My niece with the MS  fell down the stairs, neces­si­tat­ing stitch­es in her chin, three inside, three out­side! My husband’s car was stolen , involved in a hit and run, and totaled.

On the bright side, we now have a ‘new’ used car. And, I may have expe­ri­enced a healing-I’ve had very painful Achilles’ injury for sev­er­al months, but in these last few days, it seems to be gone!! Being cau­tious­ly hope­ful on that.  And then last week­end, my youngest son got engaged to a love­ly young woman! God is so good!

You’ve prob­a­bly heard the say­ing “It’s not the moun­tain ahead that wears you out -it’s the grain of sand in your shoe”. I’ve always known that I was more of the ‘grain of sand in your shoe’ ilk. The lit­tle things! They bug me! It’s been a sandy jour­ney late­ly. But of course, I try to keep aware of oth­ers’ great  pain. So much unbe­liev­able suf­fer­ing is hap­pen­ing all over the world. Peo­ple are dying and cul­tures are being sys­tem­at­i­cal­ly  destroyed . Their suf­fer­ing puts my com­plaint in per­spec­tive and dwarfs it. Besides, I know I need to stop com­plain­ing if I ever expect to become a saint (per St Cather­ine of Siena, accord­ing to my pas­tor).

Amer­i­can com­pos­er Stephen Fos­ter express­es our sense of com­pas­sion for our broth­ers every­where in this song. It is almost a prayer. I place it here to remem­ber the suf­fer­ing: