The Sleeping Beauty - Oct. 26, 2009
When my father died I was too young to understand the long range significance of his leaving. I only knew others kids had a father and that I missed mine. Thirteen year old kids need their fathers; I needed mine. His absence left a ghostly handprint hard on my soul, the one Linda Leonard wrote of in her marvelous book The Wounded Woman.
When my little niece, Jenny, died I became more aware of my anger, sorrow and disappointment that God could take such a precious little girl who just happened to be born with a non-perfect heart - if there could be such a thing, staying within the metaphor.
When my beloved daughter died I was once again flung into that place of darkness but this time there were no lights shinning from anywhere. I stumbled, I searched; I wrestled the angel. I believe that is where depth comes from and yes, consciousness, too. Adam and Eve saw their nakedness. With awareness comes a deeper responsibility. If we commit to God after supreme losses we are forever His; we have been tested.
“The Third Eve” writes, the unconscious person is not able to articulate and give words to that place where betrayal penetrated. Indeed, I know the place where sorrow weaves itself around the heart as thorns and briars keep the prince from reaching the Sleeping Beauty. “From this slumber you shall wake when true love’s kiss the spell shall break.”