A Sunday of Tears
Where to begin? My daughter had someone hurt her today.. apparently because she is autistic. Seeing my sensitive, tender-hearted daughter crying because she has such a hard time making and keeping friends upsets me. All kids have trouble, but I am here to tell you that it is harder for kids who are special needs. And it's not always the other children. Sometimes it is the parents. Ignorance abounds, and it is so, so sad.
It took another mom, (God bless her!) to help me to realize I need to be my daughters playmate.. I knew this of course, but sometimes we just 'need' to 'hear' things, to 'ring that bell' in our brains. Thank you dear lady!
I have heard that Padre Pio could 'read souls'. I am wondering if our own Fr. Sal is the same? After mass we chatted a few moments with friends, and seeing the priest approaching, we were going to just quietly slip out so they could talk. He stopped us. Not a word, but called us over. Looks into my daughter's face, and asked her if she was okay. She responded she was fine, but had had a "bad morning" but it was better now. Father Sal told her that when she was sad, she should pray to Jesus and His Mother, and ask them to help her and they would. Then he hugged her, kissed her face, and told her he loved her. The floodgates opened. My daughter wept her little heart out. I was moved to tears watching the kindness of this dear man, and my little girl. So afterwards, he made her "pinky promise" that she should call him any time. Dear, dear sweet man.
So then he turns to me, looks into my eyes, and asks me if I'm taking care of myself. "I'm trying to..." He tells me, "You must. It's important..." Gives me a couple of big hugs and kisses me (sweet, Grandfatherly old Italian man who always kisses ♥ LOVE HIM!) and then he says it.. he looks into my eyes, like he's looking THROUGH me, and says, "Please open yourself to Jesus". That's when I realized I'd been "holding my breath" with Jesus.. Father knew. I don't know HOW he knew.. *I* didn't even know.. Robyn and I were mopping tears all the way out to the car.
Tonight I was reminded about the baby bottles we're supposed to be filling with change for Emergency Pregnancy Services. This is dear to my heart, so of course I'm happy to save/collect change "for the babies". So I'm home filling this baby bottle with change, and I look at the slip of paper inside, and it says you can donate the money "in memory" of someone.
This November will be 8 years since my beautiful 36 year old friend died suddenly, in her sleep, with no warning. I think of the three babies she lost, and I believe in my heart that now she is with her babies in Heaven..
I don't know what made her pop into my head. Her. Her babies. But it's been almost 8 years and I swear the pain is just as fresh today as it was the day she died. I grieve her babies I would have loved like my own children, the way I love my nieces and nephew. I grieve all the things I said or didn't get to say. That I didn't get to say goodbye to her. That she's still in an unmarked grave pains me in a way I can't even describe.. I've even called the cemetery and sobbed, begged, and pleaded if I could get some kind of marker for her.. anyway... I can't shake her tonight.. I miss you Steph.
Tonight I weep for friends and babies taken away too young and too soon. For special needs children who feel lonely and friendless... and for sweet loving clergy who comfort us and pray for us all. Pray for the religious... they have such a burden to bear..
God bless them.