Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Month's Mind

It was one month ago today that Mom left this life. As busy as this day was (last-minute errands before leaving for Boston painfully early tomorrow morning to give a retreat there), I couldn't help but see reminders of Mom everywhere: the food processor I was using to prepare some refrigerator pickles? Mom's Christmas gift. The suitcase I was packing? Mom and I got a set of three in 2005 (it was to have been for her and Dad's 50th anniversary trip to Europe; Hurricane Katrina changed their itinerary). You get the idea.

After supper, I called my sister just to connect with a sibling on such a special day. She had just left Mom's house and was walking back to her own home when my call came.

And just now, I was finishing up the packing when the strangest thing happened. My backpack suddenly began to emit loud music. It was old style American folk music. Sung by Anonymous 4, as it happened. I couldn't imagine what had suddenly turned itself on; generally I keep all my electronics on silent unless I am actually using their audio. But when I pulled out the iPad, there it was, singing away as loud as can be, just:
Oh when shall I see Jesus and reign with Him above
and from the flowing fountain drink everlasting love?
Oh, had I wings, I would fly away and be at rest
and I'd praise God in His bright abode.

And then silence. I still have no idea what on earth happened. That is, it didn't actually seem all that earthly, if you get my drift.

As I told my sister (and as I told you the other day right on this blog), Mom's death and the many other deaths that have in one way or another touched me during the Easter Season put Heaven on my mind in a way that has never happened before. And just to make sure it stays there, I've got a song going through my head that invites me not just to think about Heaven, but to long for it as the goal and crown of life.


The Storyteller said...

Goodness gracious me...Praise God...your name came and laid heavy on my heart at Mass this evening...prayed for you and your dear mom. Peace be with you.

(Have been thinking about your question about The Liturgy of The Word, and how it can speak to us just at the right time...this soul recognizes it only because of God's Grace.)

Sr Anne Flanagan said...

Thank you for your prayerful remembrance, and to your sensitivity to the Spirit's invitation to pray for us! Also re: the recognition of the Word speaking to us ("Who, me?") as a sign and gift of grace. Isn't that the beginning of evangelization? We can only speak if we have been spoken to, otherwise we are "a sounding brass, a tinkling cymbal"...

stormy said...

Sr.Anne,you are the best.Your blog is so good.I am so glad to have access to your spiritual knowledge. Have a safe trip to Boston.Prayers always!

The Storyteller said...

Amen! :D

The Storyteller said...

Yesterday, in Boston, Sister lands safe and sound! Yesterday, in a book, children and mom read and found:

"The Miracles of the Church seem to me to rest not so much upon faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from afar off, but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there about us always."
--Death Comes for the Archbishop, Willa Cather

In this chapter, A Bell and a Miracle, the story of Our Lady of Guadalupe was the highlight.

My heart is moved to share...all for His Glory! May your/our perceptions be fine tuned!!!

And may your Boston-time be sublime! :)

Sr Anne Flanagan said...

Thanks for an exceptionally apt quote! I think I'll use it in one of the talks for the sisters' retreat!!