This has been a very challenging week for me, on many levels. First, one of my tendencies is that when I get stressed, or depressed, I tend to eat the wrong things. Chocolate is my comfort, my friend, chocolate can make me feel good even when I am down. I know it is a temporary fix, and not healthy, but my first tendency is to seek out comfort in food.
I lost a good friend this week. Cathy, see here: http://lmtribune.com/obituaries/article_ab722b30-d54b-51b3-9717-a3149408648d.html was a sweet, loving girl. She was afflicted with Downs Syndrome from birth, and if you have ever known a Downs child, you know that they are a gift from God. Cathy loved with exuberance. She reminded me, perhaps just a little bit, of what Jesus' love for us must be like, unconditional, spontaneous, exuberant, deep, and freely given. Cathy did not care what you looked like, who you were, she loved you. Cathy would interrupt a meeting between the deacon community and the Bishop to go up and give the Bishop a big hug. She would get up in the middle of mass and come over and hug someone she thought needed a hug. She was the epitome of loving kindness. I have had the pleasure of knowing Cathy since my first deacon campout in 1999, and we became good friends. When the deacons were getting together, Cathy would bring all of her pictures of her dog, her friends, famous people she had researched, and we would sit and look at all the pictures, and laugh and joke. But most of all, Cathy loved to hug. I only hope that I can do justice to her memory by seeking to be as loving as Cathy, to emulate our Lord and Savior. Thank you Cathy, for your shining example.
PS But despite my sadness, and the stress and sadness I have felt this week, I have not gone beyond my healthy eating habits which are developing. And THAT is a breakthrough!
Yes, Bobbi. Cathy was extra special. I've known her for years and have to say that my family's experiences with her taught my children many things. We usually sat right behind Cathy at Mass each week and it wasn't unusual to have her hand me her baby doll to watch over while she went up to serve or to give someone a hug. When I was telling my 8 year old about her passing, I was trying to describe her to him. What is interesting is that all of the ways I tried to describe were not part of the way he viewed her. When I finally said, "You know, Deacon Don's daughter". He said, "You mean the girl with the oxygen?" He just saw her as a person...
ReplyDeleteBobbi, your posts always bring me to tears! Thank you for writing this beautiful commentary and honoring a life that has touched so many lives. I wish I had met her in person. May we all strive to be like her - a light, shining Christ's love to others.
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