Dust
I am spending today with a bunch of dead people. No, I do not work at a morgue. I am at the cemetery. Today is All Soul’s Day, and my dear husband has given me a “day off” of retreat to spend as I wish. Before leaving today, we talked about where I planned to go. I have been craving some quiet one-on-one time with my maker, and as I said to Nick, “What I really need is a swift kick in the pants!”
The difference between myself and all the people six feet under is that while their bodies are dead, their souls are still alive. For me, my body is alive, but my soul is nearly dead from a lack of prayer, a lack of grace. I’ve stubbornly been avoiding asking Him for it. Clearly, He would give it; the problem is me not wanting to fall again. I know this is where to trust in God’s infinite mercy… but as St. Paul says, “For I do not do what I would like to do, but instead I do what I hate…. For even though the desire to do good is in me, I am not able to do it.” Ever been in a rut such as this?
Despite all those wise words from persons much wiser than myself on living the spiritual life, being a busy homeschooling mom of six living children has made me somber – slightly joy-less – I’m not a bad mommy – but if only I disciplined my mind, I could be so much better – like Zelie Martin. Hence, my first stop today: St. Joseph’s Cemetery.
Thousands of mortal remains have been laid to rest here. It is a chilly autumn day. The wind is churning; echoing its sound: “You are dust, to dust you shall return.” As I walk through the crunchy leaves, shades of goldenrod, orange, and red, I am surrounded by towering monuments and level grave markers. One overriding thought pervades my mind: This someday will be me. Death is the one inevitable thing that happens to us all. Although we try to do many things to delay its onset, age-defying remedies such as cosmetics, diet, or lifestyle changes, even these things cannot prevent the simple truth: We are destined for death.
A healthy dose of this reality around the “mini-Triduum” of All Hallow’s Eve, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls Day can do one no harm. I am not afraid of death, per se. But I am afraid of the judgment, since I am not sure that I have made the most of every waking moment I’ve lived here on earth. This is where one has to trust in God’s mercy.
My current issue, as aforementioned, is that I am tired. It is not due to a lack of rest, or some solitude every day – my dear husband is sure to make sure I have such time everyday. I just feel tired. How much of this is reasonably due to the pressures of my vocation is undisputed. But how much as this, in spite of the pressures of my vocation, I am allowing to overwhelm me, is another story.
How many mixed feelings I have about needing to be “comfortable”, have a “life of my own outside my family”, and generally needing “free time”. Why would I desire such things, when I clearly have everything I need to be happy and realize I am blessed beyond belief? The thought is strange to me, too. So, what I’ve decided to do, is to examine this today. To recall the many times, previous to today, I could say with absolute certainty that there is no need for my vocation to be “split”, between my self and those who need my help for their very existence, and prospering.
So, with the tombstones in the background for scenery, I am reading “Story of a Soul: The Autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux”. What I’m finding is that this young women, who was never married, never gave birth, and was 13 years younger than I at the time of her death speaks volumes of wisdom on not only family life and concern for the poor, but living and loving others in general.
I have not progressed through the whole book yet, but will write again, after I’ve had the chance to process what I’ve read.
