The anticipation of a birthday and a thought from Pope Benedict XVI

Intellectually it is simple enough to register that the days preceding Justin’s 27th birthday will be difficult, but the living of these days is not

so simple.  I keep feeling like I am forgetting something, that there is something I should be doing, like doing all those things that a mom does on your birthday.  You don’t anticipate the birthday of your child for 25 years and then suddenly forget, there is no plug to pull to disconnect a mother’s heart.  I keep thinking back 27 years ago, I was still pregnant with Justin – enormous, content, excited.  I keep thinking that 27 years ago he was safe, tucked underneath my heart…all 8 lbs, 3 ounces and 22 1/2 inches.  My mother said he looked like a two month old when he was born, beautiful, plump…all arms and legs.

Justin loved Pope Benedict and I came across a meditation from the Holy Father that I have found comforting and thought provoking.

Father – with this word I express my certainty that someone is there who hears me, who never leaves me alone, who is always present.  I express my certainty that God, despite the infinite difference between him and me, is such that I can speak to him, may even address him familiarly as “thou” (German du).  His greatness does not overwhelm me, does not reject me as insignificant and unimportant.  Certainly I am subject to him as a child is subject to his father, yet there is such a fundamental similarity and likeness between him and me, yes, I am so important to him, I belong so closely to him, that I can rightly address him as “Father.”  My being born is not a mistake, then, but a grace.  It is good to live even though I do not always perceive it.  I am wanted; not a child of chance or necessity, but of choice and freedom.  Therefore I shall also have a purpose in life; there will always be a meaning for me, a task designed just for me, there is a conception of me that I can seek and find and fulfill.  When the school of life becomes unbearably hard, when I would like to cry out as Job did, as the psalmist did – then I can transform this cry into the word “Father” and the cry will gradually become a word, a reminder to trust, because from the Father’s perspective it is clear that my distress, yes, my agony, is part of the greater love for which I give thanks.

Pope Benedict XVI

It is difficult to perceive the good in life, good to be reminded that I don’t have to feel the good to know that it is true.