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The most challenging phase of labor is named transition. It is the moment when life force utterly takes charge with the woman gifting the world with a new life, when the emerging being moves from within the womb, down into the birth canal. The pain is at its most intense, and the mother is in the grip of a force than cannot be controlled. She has no choice but to hand over herself to God, and to her helpers, and birth this new happening into the world.
Without choosing, we sometimes find ourselves in life transitions. Our anguish can seem unendurable, and the process continues, impervious to our efforts to ease it. In our feeling of helplessness, we cry out to God, and we lean on the loving hands that hold us up. And unaccountably, we live through it, and the new self we are struggling to breathe into life, emerges.
Never did I dream that at my age I would face the enduring of such events, or face such drastic changes in my life. However, in the midst of this agony, and amidst these irreparable losses, doors are opening.
I recall so well my cherished grandmother, and the gentle ladies her age. Were in a member of that generation, becoming an old woman would be drawing very near and, retreating closer to home, and easing up on my responsibilities. I gaze down at my hands, and the physical signs of age are apparent. But I sense my spirit, and know that I am still...just me.
Much of what I loved best in this world was lost in this last year, and that which I drew on to name me. Some of those most preious to me in this world are no longer with me. But I stood the test. I stood on the crossroads, and I chose to keep going forward, to redefine myself not by my losses, but by my choice to reclaim life. The Holy Mother remained by my side through this transition murmuring, "I too knew loss." .
With God's help I comprehended that we reclaim our life by giving our life away. I understand that I still have so much to give, much yet to receive. Last year, I had the great good fortune to spend six precious months in the amazing country of Romania. How could I appreciate then, that that time, and those treasured people I met there, would prove to be God's gift of grace which would carry me through these anguished times. Romania calls and I return now at last to satisfy a hope of being a part of these amazing people's futures. By August I should be back in my beloved Romania, sitting with my dear friend, and eating our dinner together...sharing the quiet pleasures of mamaliga and goat cheese, and perhaps if I am blessed, a thimble of tuica.
I must honor my beloved son David, who walks the road less traveled, and who has been a brick in my foundation for his whole life. Dave you are a true heart; you bless me with the most honest, most powerful, purest love any human being has ever been blessed with. For now and for always, you are a guiding light on my path. I could not have made it without you.
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