Solemnity of the Mother of God

And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.

Luke 2:19

Reflecting in Her Heart

The first day of this New Year finds me in a new way of life; a way of life totally unanticipated at the beginning of 2015. I am no longer a Redemptoristine nun. I no longer live in a monastery pursuing the daily round of prayer, work and recreation. I can no longer depend on the work of others to keep life spinning. It is hard, at times, to know who I am now. (A previous post offers some background to this profound change.)

To append this change to the list of events to which I often refer as "my checkered past" makes me shake my head in disbelief. Italian-American Brooklyn boomer, daughter and sister, college girl, wife, mother, divorcee, single mom to three sons, teacher, graduate student, librarian, parish and community volunteer, contemplative nun, grandmother, and at the age of 70 a lay person once again. It really makes me wonder.

Running over the list in my mind I most often tend to dwell on how much I messed up; all the times and places in which I failed; all the people I let down and did not love well; and all the times I imagine being a disappointment to God. I see all the broken places.

But I have been urged to turn away from notions of brokenness and rather to ponder the continuity of spirit (with an upper case 's' as well as lower) which undergirds the meandering events and occupations of my life. 

The presence of God was always there; the guidance of the Spirit; desire for the Holy One; and the "Hound of Heaven" unrelenting in pursuit of a soul often not knowing where it was headed.

Today's Gospel is a simple one concerning the shepherds coming to see Jesus and praise Him and Mary's reaction to it all. Luke says, "Mary kept all of these things, reflecting on them in her heart." Another translation offered, "Mary wondered at these things, and pondered them in her heart." I wonder and I ponder. "Wonder" suggests awe at the mysterious ways of God and "ponder" speaks of the effort to plumb all these things for depth of meaning.

I have said that I am currently exploring a new contemplative path, a way of living contemplatively in the world as a lay person. In this context my small but very comfortable apartment may be considered my hermitage. I do relish my time here alone. But I am too much of an extrovert to ever dignify myself with the title of hermit. Rather I have returned to an image from the writings of Maria Celeste Crostarosa, foundress of the Redemptoristine Nuns. One collection of her writings is entitled "Il Giardinetto", or "The Little Garden."

But this is no ordinary garden. She suggests that a more precise meaning is this; that for God the 'giardinetto' is the dear enclosed garden in which God and the soul enjoy each other. My little place can be this enclosed garden. It has all the verdant, cool, shady loveliness and protection of a childhood remembrance; the lush grape arbor seriously cultivated by the old Italian immigrant gentleman who lived next door.  

So as Mary kept, wondered, reflected and pondered in her heart the wondrous things that had taken place in her short life, I do the same but with a longer list unrolled over a whole life time and still unfurling to reveal its mysteries. In daily meditation I struggle to center myself, to enter the precious enclosed garden and ponder the meaning.

Make Friends with a Cane

"Please, do make friends with a cane."

 

Around the age of 55 my knees began to give me trouble. That did not fly with my profession as librarian and teacher in middle school. Two arthroscopic knee surgeries (roto-rooter jobs cleaning out debris cause by osteoarthritis) bought me a bit more time. In the process I made friends with a cane. By the age of 61 the friendship served me well while recuperating from double knee replacement surgery. I am happy for this friendship, especially when I see disasters waiting to happen all around me.

 

On November 2 and 3 the New York Times ran two articles on fall risk for the elderly: "Bracing for the Falls of an Aging Nation" and "A Tiny Stumble, a Life Upended" both by Katie Hafner". These are worth reading and sharing with older friends and family. Denial reigns. The statistical risks are frightening; the complications from falls are innumerable. Yet, as the articles report, safety measures like life alert pendants, canes and walkers are resisted, often to disastrous end. When my mother, already in dementia, was 88 I told her she really needed to use a cane. Her response, "Oh no, I don't want to look like an old lady." I told her, "You already are an old lady!" When walking aides are introduced after dementia sets in it is difficult to master the habit of using them. Not habituated to reaching for her walker, my mother rose one night in assisted living to use the bathroom. Just standing beside her bed she lost her balance, fell and gashed her head on the bedside table. She lay on the floor  for hours bleeding profusely. Although no bone was broken and the gash required only 6 stitches she remained in the hospital for 5 days, required time in a nursing home and is now a permanent resident there. There is something to be said for getting used to using a cane or walker while you can still master the process.

 

This message may seem a bit premature for me and my peers but not so. We may not need one all the time but can certainly use the assistance of a cane when conditions are treacherous - hiking in the woods, long tourist walks in unknown territory, icy conditions.

It pays to have one handy, have it sized correctly and know how to use it properly. At the age of 64 a tall healthy male friend of mine slipped on ice outdoors. He was not found for half an hour. He had dislocated his shoulder, damaged his knee and done terrible nerve damage. Two surgeries later after nine months in a nursing facility, living on narcotic painkillers and completely separated from his normal life of independent travel and teaching all over the world he is finally getting his life back. But his body will never be the same.

 

So pick out something useful but elegant. Keep it handy. Don't be too afraid or too proud, or like my mother too vain to use it. And know that people are very nice to those using a cane. This is especially true while traveling by air which has become an almost intolerably uncomfortable process. Ultimately it can be your best friend.