A red cardinal just flew up through the
tree outside my window and sits perched on a low hanging branch. No
babies to watch, this bird freely soars. An empty nest. A quiet
house seems to betray the fact that the boisterous or moody or social
one has now flown the coop. Stillness gnaws at the edges of who we
are.
How to love and live freely and yet
well? How to let go and let God have our children, our friends, our
very lives? When roles and responsibilities identify who we are there
will be restless yearning as these change- one must face one's self
unadorned.
I was accused today of being a, “hands
off” mother. And would I want to be one whose talons are forever
cutting into the soul of the child who is really not my own? As I
allow God to comfort me in the losses there have been sleepless
nights and tears, but there has been Presence and joy. Comfort costs
me my wants and desires and asks me to create a space where God can
meet me. That place is called emptiness. Open your hands and let them
go- in this freedom they can live and you will soar.
Medicine from Sacred Writing:
“The God of mercies and Father of
all comfort comfort all our hearts, both those who are oppressed by
grief and those held down with any other sorrow.”
St. John Chrysostom Homilies on
Second Corinthians Homily 1.7; NPNF1.276
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