Happy Feast Day!

 Fourteen years ago, God chose me to carry a cross every mother fears. My child was given a terminal diagnosis. I recently heard Mama’s in Spirit podcast, episode, “The Kiss of God”. https://www.mamasinspirit.com/podcast/2023/11/9/the-kiss-of-god-with-kristi-bentley As Kristi shared her journey, I started wondering who the intercessors were while our little saint was on earth. Who was it, that helped me see the light and focus on Heaven? The faith and full surrender did not come from me. I started to look back at the dates that changed my life forever. Wouldn’t you know it, it wasn’t just the holy spirit who allowed me to walk, my terminal baby from this world to her true home, with grace and charity it was my mother and my father.

 

September 15, 2009, was the day my world shifted, and I realized regardless of the sorrows we survive on earth there can always be more. We make the choice to get lost in the sorrow and surrender to it, or we can find solace and shelter in the wounds of Christ. We can lay every sorrow at the foot of the cross and beg for the joy that goes missing when our cross(es) seem insurmountable. God gives us so many gifts. If, we’re too busy sinking in sorrow we can miss the ones that come in the form of friendships. I met, Shelia in nursing school. We hit it off quickly and her love, intelligence, and faith drew me in. She freely shared her wisdom with joy, and I looked forward to our study sessions. Her husband was a professor at Vanderbilt. He was a sociologist with a focus on criminal behavior. Shelia was coming with me to the 20-week doctor’s appointment with our third child. We were so excited. However, Shelia’s air conditioner was acting up and she had service scheduled and had to leave before we learned anything about Adalynne was normal. It was this wound and the ones that would cement my love for momma Mary. On the day I met motherhood sorrow in the form of abnormalities and unknowns was also the day we celebrate the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows.

            Although Mary’s yes ultimately opened the gates of heaven, the sorrows she faced on earth were profound. Her motherhood suffering is unimaginable, and yet in her “yes” to our Father (Luke 1:26-38) this was the path she had to follow, regardless of the wounds her thorn-filled journey would create and the sword that would pierce her soul. She knew what had to be done, and the sorrowful steps that led her to the foot of the cross of her son had to be walked. I have trouble truly grasping the sorrows our mother faced and yet if she was able to walk with Christ and not lose faith I could walk my daughter to heaven. Her steps forward are like those of us who must walk the initial steps of grief.

            The next month was filled with appointments. October is the month of the Rosary. During that time, it was as if I was carried through the prayers of others. It was some of the darkest nights and through grace, hope was never lost.

            November was our Family photoshoot with the ladybug. We called Adalynne our little ladybug. The days that lead up to the photoshoot were beyond difficult. I remember wondering if I had totally and completely lost my mind. I found humor in the outlandish request made by a lady at the funeral home when she asked if we could store Adalynne’s casket in our garage. “Sure, Theresa! We can just stick it next to the recycling bins. Slow down sister you’re going way too fast. You just hit a casket, but not any casket. Your daughter’s casket… in your garage…” It was such an outlandish request all I could do was laugh to cover the tears I refused to let fall. The photo shoot was on November 8, the feast day of St. Michael the Archangel.  The photo shoot was ending and as I was walking inside, I felt something on the side of my face. The photographer told me not to move or touch my face. She captured the moment a ladybug landed on my cheek. I would later learn how ladybugs got their name. https://ucatholic.com/blog/did-you-know-ladybugs-are-named-for-the-virgin-mary/ Every time I cross the path of a ladybug, I am reminded of the time my womb was a home to a saint. It takes me back to cotton candy sunrises, just like the Saint Michael prayer.

            I will never forget unless dementia claims my mind and steals my memories, the December of 09. If I close my eyes, they fill with tears thinking back to that evening. The tears are gratitude more than they are longing. Harrison and Houston were still little guys. The Christmas Pageant had just wrapped up and I was overcome with emotion. It hit me that this would be our only Christmas as a family of five; these five. The tears started to fall. I felt so foolish. Last week I came across a journal entry:

 

As I sit here in adoration of Christ our Lord. I’m taken back to another December almost 13 years ago. It takes me back to the gifts that God bestowed upon our family. It was a time I could feel the true presence of our Redeemer and his mother’s immaculate love. It was through the sufferings that grace carried us through the long winter nights and the one Christmas I was blessed to celebrate with Adalynne in the safety of my womb. There’s something about placing my love and trust in full surrender to our Lord that causes tears to fall. I become utterly and completely overwhelmed by his mercy and grace, and knowing I’m unworthy he loves me still. For whatever reason the power was lost on the evening we celebrated Christmas Eve Mass. The only light was from candles and a handful of flashlights. We can be in a world of darkness if we choose, and it’s the light of Christ that saves sinners. On Christmas Eve all await his birth in excitement and joy. This little baby, born in a feeding trough would one day save the world. It was in anticipation of His light we fell into darkness he’s yet to be born. We can all get caught up, in everything that is not Christmas, if we are not careful. Surrendering myself to the moments at a time is what I have been shown.

Shortly after the new year, I had to be induced due to developing HELLP syndrome. Adalynne was born on the feast day of Saint Elizabeth of Ann Seton. Adalynne taught me about love, surrender, and strength. It’s because of Adalynne I never want to stop learning how to be a saint.

Adalynne was called home on January 9, the feast day of Blessed Pauline-Marie Jaricot. She was devoted to teaching young girls how to live a pious life. She started a missionary. She founded the Association of the Living Rosary and spread her devotion. Blessed Pauline Marie Jaricot had a devotion to Saint Philomena. I can focus on the frozen ground I had to turn my back on and in doing so I also turned my back on my infant, who lay lifeless in the ground. Or I can choose to surrender the sadness and sorrow with the cross. Adalynne has led me to the cross over and over. It’s because of her I chose to live differently. She saved me. I want to see her again. I want to throw my arms around Mary and thank her for raising Adalynne and for every time she wrapped me in her loving spiritual embrace when my momma heart was broken. I want to thank her for leading me to her son, and showing me nothing in this world is too big or too broken he can’t mend.