Thursday, January 12, 2012

I Can't Possibily Title This

Do you believe in miracles?

Generally, I do, when I'm not feeling punchy or bitter or faithless. That is, sometimes I believe the hand of God, which is always present, directly intervenes. Stopping the persistent procession of cancer cells, or reversing brain damage; restoring hearing or bringing the clinically dead back to the land of breath and warmth.

This story seems to be one such miracle. When people begin to discuss organ donation, the outlook is pretty bleak. And when a neurosurgeon has no answer as to why a recovery as drastic as this took place, and actually uses the word 'miraculous,' well, I just have to go with it.

What I don't get is the why. Why are some people granted this affirmative answer to their fervent prayers? And why are some left to try to find the hand of God elsewhere, residing somewhere, though perhaps obscured, in the haze and mad swirl of grief?

I am praying for a friend. A lot of people are praying along with me. When I've visited her, we've had discussions that would normally make me crawl on the floor towards a corner, only to fall and wrap myself tightly into a fetal ball. I hold it together until I get into my car. I suspect a lot of the other people in her wide circle do the same.

Thus far, the answer to the biggest prayer has been no. And it is a no that I chase out of my brain, or drown out with another prayer. I entreat everyone I can -- St. Jude, St. Peregrine, the Mother of God herself -- to intervene. I call the saints, soft and ethereal in their watercolor robes, to petition Christ to reverse the irreversible. I call on Mary, sitting and mourning with Christ's body on her lap.

I am trying to turn that no into a yes. A lot of people are trying to turn that no into a yes.

I try to remember the biggest thing. That the soul survives death. Sometimes when I run, Alanis Morrisette reminds me to remember it: "How 'bout not equating death with stopping?"

But we're talking a young person. With a family. I don't know. The stakes are really high.

I also don't know how to conclude this. Except to say that the litany continues. And today, Thursday, the Luminous Mysteries. In reading about meditations on the Wedding at Cana, we can think about how "no situation of human need is outside the scope of God's healing interest and care."

So in the direst of situations, the human need to be present as a flesh and blood mortal, I continue to speak and ask and plead.

5 comments:

Fran said...

I don't have words just yet, but wanting to let you know that I was here. And praying with you. Wondering too.

Miracles happen all the time though and I do not say that lightly. Sometimes it has taken me a good 20 or 30 years to realize that what was once the darkest thing, was actually the miracle after all.

Religion - life - mystery - it is all effed up sometimes. (Sometimes?)

MemeGRL said...

Life is changed, not ended.
I have such a mixed relationship with that phrase. And I will join you in praying for miracles.
They happen. Little ones, every day. Ones that wouldn't stand up to the scrutiny of the renamed Devil's Advocate, but no less real.
No one asks us to believe that our lives won't be reduced by the ending of the mortal life of a loved one, only to have hope we will be with them again.
I have had dreams where my mother shows me what it is like to be dead. And it is glorious. She shows me my nieces and nephews, screwing up big time, and instead of rage and disappointment and helplessness and fear of dreams denied that I feel as mortal me, all I feel is love and tenderness and an understanding that this too is a lesson they need to take them somewhere else in their lives. And I feel compassion, and excitement for their journeys to adulthood, and nothing but the joy of loving them. It's amazing.
I still hate that I wake up and my mother is dead. I still hate that my best friend's cancer is back. I still hate that I have friends awaiting miracles, some realistic and some that seem foolish to even hope for. But my life has been full of grace in ways no mortal deserves, so I continue to ask, beseech, pray.
"Let Thy will be done" is the hardest prayer I know. Like most of us, I really want my way. And while I know God knows that, I think of it like "I love you." My kids know I love them. But it's important to hear me say it. Same for my spouse. And for me. And so I remind God: all these miracles are Yours. None of us is deserving. And yet You love us all so much. Please, help my friend. Help me.
Sorry for the disjointed response. But this has been on my heart this season too. Thank you for the opportunity to share.

De said...

I'm sorry for your pain.

I think the miracle is when we are able to separate our self from the suffering. I do not think God is the one that has to give the "yes;" we do.

claire bangasser said...

I join your prayers. I have no answer... I have some thoughts on this, but I am not sure they would be useful.

Love your friend. Surround her. Let her know how wonderful she is. Be grateful for each day she is alive and you can breathe together the same air.

And the rest of us will do the praying for all of you.

painted maypole said...

i have always wondered how the miracles get "doled out," as it were. Why God's Will is not the same for all people, all situations.

ultimately, i guess it is. His will is that we be with Him

and You are with Him. daily.

peace and love to you and your friend.