My Day of Reflection
It's been way too long since my last entry in "blog-world". I am writing tonight because there's a certain "je ne sais quoi" that has occurred over the past few days. Well, I do know what the cause is and that is the reason for my day's bittersweetness.
One's past does come back in a somewhat "morphed" form...sometimes wonderfully so, at others malignantly and still occasionally as a "flat line" or even filled with anxious anticipation. Let me tell you without the nitty gritty detail...just the refined version.
I am in the mood for this because I spent the day with 3 of my grandchildren in Alhambra volunteering with the Carmelite Sisters of the Sacred Heart. This group originated with Mother Luisita of Jalisco, Mexico. She came to Los Angeles around 1937 when there was much persecution of priests and nuns in Mexico - about the time also of my personal spiritual hero and martyr, Father Miguel Pro's (Antonio Banderas would do a magnificent job portraying him) life and experience and execution.
The day itself was simple...a "garden fair" designed to raise needed money for the maintenance of the Sisters' many good works. It was an opportunity for me to also take a bit of time and go to the chapel and say some prayers for all of those who are a part of the tapestry that is my life. I included those who had shared much with me from years and years ago, along with the uncomplicated prayers for the day to day stuff and for the souls who have left this life. The drive home was filled with the usual gaiety of children, the chatter of what they did "to help". The eldest, now 14 and a half, spoke of her singing and a song choice for an event.
We all talked and things were normal but I had the sense of leaving something unfinished. In fact it was the shadow of the past that had accompanied me for so long, now becoming more than just some memories that I had carefully locked away because it hurt to revisit them. I now find myself rushing toward that little sentimental treasure box, eager to open it again.
I think I just want you reading these words, whoever you are and wherever you are, to know that no matter what your heart has felt, whether it was broken or fulfilled - whether the song that is your life was a childish melody or an aria - it is worthy and good because it is the "you" of you.
It is my failures (even more than my successes) that have perhaps taught me how to be a fairly decent mother and grandmother, and a loyal friend. I value the persons who touched my life in any way and they know who they are. I pray for them every day and lately more than I ever thought I would. Those who were my "world" in a very beautiful way, still are. They have left their imprint indelibly upon my life and my heart, and for that I will always love them. That is what must remain my consolation because they are not in my day to day and I cannot tell them. So I say a rosary and hope that someday in the "al di la" (beyond the beyond) they will know.
This was a pensive little blog - no ire, no anger, no cause, no complaints - just a bit of real life me talking to real life you.
God bless you!
One's past does come back in a somewhat "morphed" form...sometimes wonderfully so, at others malignantly and still occasionally as a "flat line" or even filled with anxious anticipation. Let me tell you without the nitty gritty detail...just the refined version.
I am in the mood for this because I spent the day with 3 of my grandchildren in Alhambra volunteering with the Carmelite Sisters of the Sacred Heart. This group originated with Mother Luisita of Jalisco, Mexico. She came to Los Angeles around 1937 when there was much persecution of priests and nuns in Mexico - about the time also of my personal spiritual hero and martyr, Father Miguel Pro's (Antonio Banderas would do a magnificent job portraying him) life and experience and execution.
The day itself was simple...a "garden fair" designed to raise needed money for the maintenance of the Sisters' many good works. It was an opportunity for me to also take a bit of time and go to the chapel and say some prayers for all of those who are a part of the tapestry that is my life. I included those who had shared much with me from years and years ago, along with the uncomplicated prayers for the day to day stuff and for the souls who have left this life. The drive home was filled with the usual gaiety of children, the chatter of what they did "to help". The eldest, now 14 and a half, spoke of her singing and a song choice for an event.
We all talked and things were normal but I had the sense of leaving something unfinished. In fact it was the shadow of the past that had accompanied me for so long, now becoming more than just some memories that I had carefully locked away because it hurt to revisit them. I now find myself rushing toward that little sentimental treasure box, eager to open it again.
I think I just want you reading these words, whoever you are and wherever you are, to know that no matter what your heart has felt, whether it was broken or fulfilled - whether the song that is your life was a childish melody or an aria - it is worthy and good because it is the "you" of you.
It is my failures (even more than my successes) that have perhaps taught me how to be a fairly decent mother and grandmother, and a loyal friend. I value the persons who touched my life in any way and they know who they are. I pray for them every day and lately more than I ever thought I would. Those who were my "world" in a very beautiful way, still are. They have left their imprint indelibly upon my life and my heart, and for that I will always love them. That is what must remain my consolation because they are not in my day to day and I cannot tell them. So I say a rosary and hope that someday in the "al di la" (beyond the beyond) they will know.
This was a pensive little blog - no ire, no anger, no cause, no complaints - just a bit of real life me talking to real life you.
God bless you!
posted by Lucia Bartoli | 8:43 PM
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