Lent 5 ~ That Stones Be Moved


          This past week, I read of suicides.

          A 21-year-old mother texted her young husband, I love you forever, I’m sorry, and then tied her two-year-old to her, and went into the shadowed sea. The waters returned the mother and her wee one to the sands of the beach some days later.

          Midweek, I found Sally Wessely’s delightful blog, and it was humbling and beautiful to read and to see the pictures of a woman embracing life in all its lilts and dips so enthusiastically. Reading about the way Sally chose to live her everydays brought a skip into my heart, and her posts helped me to be more grateful for life’s little pressies of blooms and winds and rain curtains.

          Then, I saw suicide in her sidebar menu, and I pulled it up. And I learned that Sally had known a sorrow no mother should ever have to face.

          Returning our children to God is never easy. The sorrow bites deep years and years on, evolving from one form to another. But sudden deaths, the snuffing out of flames that should have burned on beyond us, they bring a different dimension of hurt to those left behind. The wounding of hearts is…not the same.

          Grief in any form alters life, and grief in the wake of a single suicide can take more than that one life alone. The shock, the regret, that streams from a life abruptly ended before its time, has the dark power to twist and warp more lives into the abyss of desolation.

          As I ponder this loss, the dense night sky seems to be wearing the mourning veils of thousands of wounded hearts. I will never have the words for such pain – the torments that lead to suicide, and the anguish from a completed suicide. The path that leads to this death is a long scream in itself. It is a desolation that must be healed, yet its healing is not of this earth.

          The agonizing soul can only find respite and strength in the only Real Love there is – our Jesus’ love.

          Yet, many do not know Him. And even if they do, turning to God is not always the easiest thing to do, because that’s just who we are. There are too many rocks in the stream; we allow so many things to stand in the way.

          So, to my beads I go, to beg grace for the lights that are flickering, and for the healing  of hearts rent by suicide. In the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy I rest this desolation, bringing this wound of mortals to the depths of Grace.

          That stones be moved and the stream of Life flow unhindered once more.




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