It has been a crazy week....a lot of emotions all packed into a few days. I would do these days all over again, though. Not because they felt good. But because, once again, I was blessed to feel His presence. The days were filled with lots of love, more than a few tears, a lot of fear, an aching heart, but ultimately profound joy and a sense of peace. Yes, the aching is a wish for things to be different, I know. It's a wish for things to be how I think they should be...and that desire to control is something I have to work hard on to resist. I want to fix this. I want to heal the people it hurt. It's not a new feeling, but I am beginning to figure out how to turn it around. She talked about it often, and she willingly did it. I think I understand better now. I just have to listen...really listen. To Him. Trust me... Yes, I do.
I knew her for a short time, in retrospect, but I feel as if it were a lifetime. I wish with all my heart that it had been. She figured me out instantly, and I was virtually transparent around her. I remember the day I helped in her class, bringing a First Aid kit craft to do with Thomas' preschool friends. Under her watchful teacher eyes, I could see her relax a little when she realized I knew what I was doing. And after spending the morning watching her in awe and amazement (and you know it's hard to impress the teacher in me!), I knew why Thomas was so drawn to her. As I was leaving, she thanked me genuinely....not like some teachers who say they want help in the classroom but really don't want you there. And I was tickled when she said, "We need to be friends!" I knew she meant it, and I knew we would be. How many friendships begin that way? Even then, I remember thinking, "Geez, God. Way to be subtle!" I know it now, and I knew it then....our paths were supposed to cross. That's the Lord for you, in all his glorious greatness, working his way into your heart in the most unseemly ways.
Maribeth was an exceptional listener, and her advice was always quick to follow. It was kind and reassuring, always loving, uplifting, reminding. What she said never failed to point me in the right direction again, gently. She never told me anything I didn't already know, but she helped to strengthen my faith in what I believed. Maybe she saw things in me that I can't or won't. That was her gift, and was she ever good at it. Encouraging me to plod on and try new things...believing in me. That's what friends do, right? She always knew what to say to make me feel better, or maybe how to make me feel not-so-awful about how I handled something. Like after Dad died. She asked me to tell her about it, and she was one of the only ones I knew would believe me about what I had felt. I also embarrassingly confessed to her that, after that heart-wrenching night, I was just tired of praying. She said, with all sincerity and absolutely no judgment, "Sa-rah! Even Jesus took a break from praying in the garden!" And I felt better. Just like that. She professed many words these last few months, none of them hers, but all of them important. They made sense in the context of this whole experience. They brought clarity to it. They resonated with me, and I am sure I wasn't the only one. Maribeth's answer to everything, every ache, every pain, every bump in the road, every bad day, every frustrated word was always one of these three things:
Be still and know...
All things through Christ...
Love never fails.
Thursday presented us all with what I like to thing of as her last lesson plan. In my heart, I knew it would be. While I dreaded the finality of it all, dreaded watching those who love her weep, I also wanted to soak up every Word, every note of every song, that she had chosen. Her beliefs about faith were spoken so eloquently, so thorough and beautifully through His Word. Knowing her destiny presented her with a gift of sorts, one where she was given the opportunity to think about what messages she wanted to convey, and that's how she told me she was going to look at it -- God was granting her an amazing blessing to be able to do this. She was able to think carefully about her last goodbye. Of course, the immensely-detailed and spot-on lesson planner that she was did not disappoint. She filled the Mass with things she wanted us to remember, things that were important above anything else, and it was without a doubt her best lesson ever. Each of her three favorite sentiments came shining through. And each time, when those words were echoed, her voice resonated. HIS Word resonated. We knew she would have some thoughts to share with us even after she went to heaven, but who knew she would be comforting us? Maribeth did. That is the woman that so many loved dearly. She never failed to share her heart with others. She had great compassion, always playing second fiddle. But she knew her death would leave us aching. And even before it happened, she wanted to love us through it all. We should have known that, unlike her voice, her love for us all could not be silenced. She was wrapped around us all on Thursday, and her presence there was felt in every hug and smile. The walls of St. Francis sometimes seems cold and unforgiving to me. I know that's awful to say. Sometimes I go there in search of things that I am not able to find. But not on this day. The walls were warmed with a heartfelt, honest tribute from a very human friar, alive with His message, and marked by her presence.
Maribeth was an exceptional listener, and her advice was always quick to follow. It was kind and reassuring, always loving, uplifting, reminding. What she said never failed to point me in the right direction again, gently. She never told me anything I didn't already know, but she helped to strengthen my faith in what I believed. Maybe she saw things in me that I can't or won't. That was her gift, and was she ever good at it. Encouraging me to plod on and try new things...believing in me. That's what friends do, right? She always knew what to say to make me feel better, or maybe how to make me feel not-so-awful about how I handled something. Like after Dad died. She asked me to tell her about it, and she was one of the only ones I knew would believe me about what I had felt. I also embarrassingly confessed to her that, after that heart-wrenching night, I was just tired of praying. She said, with all sincerity and absolutely no judgment, "Sa-rah! Even Jesus took a break from praying in the garden!" And I felt better. Just like that. She professed many words these last few months, none of them hers, but all of them important. They made sense in the context of this whole experience. They brought clarity to it. They resonated with me, and I am sure I wasn't the only one. Maribeth's answer to everything, every ache, every pain, every bump in the road, every bad day, every frustrated word was always one of these three things:
Be still and know...
All things through Christ...
Love never fails.
Thursday presented us all with what I like to thing of as her last lesson plan. In my heart, I knew it would be. While I dreaded the finality of it all, dreaded watching those who love her weep, I also wanted to soak up every Word, every note of every song, that she had chosen. Her beliefs about faith were spoken so eloquently, so thorough and beautifully through His Word. Knowing her destiny presented her with a gift of sorts, one where she was given the opportunity to think about what messages she wanted to convey, and that's how she told me she was going to look at it -- God was granting her an amazing blessing to be able to do this. She was able to think carefully about her last goodbye. Of course, the immensely-detailed and spot-on lesson planner that she was did not disappoint. She filled the Mass with things she wanted us to remember, things that were important above anything else, and it was without a doubt her best lesson ever. Each of her three favorite sentiments came shining through. And each time, when those words were echoed, her voice resonated. HIS Word resonated. We knew she would have some thoughts to share with us even after she went to heaven, but who knew she would be comforting us? Maribeth did. That is the woman that so many loved dearly. She never failed to share her heart with others. She had great compassion, always playing second fiddle. But she knew her death would leave us aching. And even before it happened, she wanted to love us through it all. We should have known that, unlike her voice, her love for us all could not be silenced. She was wrapped around us all on Thursday, and her presence there was felt in every hug and smile. The walls of St. Francis sometimes seems cold and unforgiving to me. I know that's awful to say. Sometimes I go there in search of things that I am not able to find. But not on this day. The walls were warmed with a heartfelt, honest tribute from a very human friar, alive with His message, and marked by her presence.
Some people leave jewelry, money, and possessions when they die. I am sure she left those as well. But her most valuable possession...one she left a piece of with everyone she knew...was her love for the Lord. What a treasure she was. She was goodness personified. Mom and Susan are the only ones who were ever able to spend any time with her, and I so wish you all could have met her. I am sure Dad is completely charmed with her in heaven, and he probably has her listening to war stories and state patrol tales. I am quite certain that she is probably being her sweet self, obliging him in one of two things: playing poker (I never asked her if she knew how) or eating strawberry ice cream. I am sure she is working her prayerful magic on everyone there, spreading her love like fairy dust on a breeze. With her, it was easy to say I love you and mean it with your whole heart. There were no conditions for love with Maribeth; it was free-flowing for anyone. She was like someone I had grown up with, a puzzle piece from another puzzle that would have fit perfectly into mine. Her family, her parents, her children as siblings, remind me so much of us. And walking into her house is like walking into a family reunion, just like when we get together. It's comfortable and it feels exactly the same, at least is does to me. I will miss that a lot.
She left a lot of things, a lot of memories, so many friends, but most importantly a heartbroken family who love her desperately. With each other, with God's help, and her prayers from above, I know they will find their way. Listen to the song she left them. It was yet another reminder from her that LOVE NEVER FAILS. It is always the answer. She knew and respected that people were all in different places on their faith journey, that everyone had different troubles and worries, but she always encouraged us to move forward and look for God's presence in everything -- in each other, in every trial, in every joy, in every day. I think she chose this song as a way of reassuring from beyond that, through love for each other and for our Lord, we will find peace in His promise. God gave us each other for a reason. His love will bring us through those times in our lives when we think we can't go on. Keeping our hearts focused on Him will bring us every ounce of strength we need, and drawing closer to Him will make the unbearable -- the unthinkable --maybe just a little bit more livable. Even though we can't see her, He allows her to live on through every "I love you" we share with each other. I am sharing it with you. Because I want to. I guess because I need to. Love is the very thing that is bringing joy to this sadness. He was so right, and she knew it. Love never fails.
Thank you, sweet friend, for your friendship, for long lunches with laughter and honest conversations, for sharing your faith with me so completely, for letting me care for you, and for believing me. Thank you for having enough trust in me to let me walk with you for even a minute of this last year. My understanding of the depth and breadth of your aches and pains and fears and experiences is so very, very small. But I know and remember your heart well. I always will. And although it ceases to beat, it loves on, stronger than ever.
I love you, sweet friend.
She left a lot of things, a lot of memories, so many friends, but most importantly a heartbroken family who love her desperately. With each other, with God's help, and her prayers from above, I know they will find their way. Listen to the song she left them. It was yet another reminder from her that LOVE NEVER FAILS. It is always the answer. She knew and respected that people were all in different places on their faith journey, that everyone had different troubles and worries, but she always encouraged us to move forward and look for God's presence in everything -- in each other, in every trial, in every joy, in every day. I think she chose this song as a way of reassuring from beyond that, through love for each other and for our Lord, we will find peace in His promise. God gave us each other for a reason. His love will bring us through those times in our lives when we think we can't go on. Keeping our hearts focused on Him will bring us every ounce of strength we need, and drawing closer to Him will make the unbearable -- the unthinkable --maybe just a little bit more livable. Even though we can't see her, He allows her to live on through every "I love you" we share with each other. I am sharing it with you. Because I want to. I guess because I need to. Love is the very thing that is bringing joy to this sadness. He was so right, and she knew it. Love never fails.
Thank you, sweet friend, for your friendship, for long lunches with laughter and honest conversations, for sharing your faith with me so completely, for letting me care for you, and for believing me. Thank you for having enough trust in me to let me walk with you for even a minute of this last year. My understanding of the depth and breadth of your aches and pains and fears and experiences is so very, very small. But I know and remember your heart well. I always will. And although it ceases to beat, it loves on, stronger than ever.
I love you, sweet friend.
You'll have to turn the music on my playlist off to hear this. It's worth it.
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