Getting to know Becky
Pure at Heart: A Reflection on Compassion and Grace
I was listening to a podcast yesterday, an interview with Elizabeth Gilbert. She’s written a book that you might recognize, Eat, Pray, Love. Fairly popular, thirty million copies sold. Something like that.
As part of the podcast, Elizabeth told a story about her deceased partner, Rhea. Rhea and Elizabeth were at a memorial service, I believe for Rhea’s aunt. A family member, an ex-convict, and active drug addict, crashed the gathering uninvited, and started causing a scene.
Rhea had a great deal of empathy for this nephew of hers, because she herself had been a drug addict on the streets of New York at one point in her life. She walked up, placed her hand on his heart, and asked, “How are you doing in there?”
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For a moment, she made a connection, but then he became angry and violent again. Rhea turned to Elizabeth and said, “I want you to go and put all of our valuables in the car and then tell everybody else to do the same.”
Later on Elizabeth told Rhea, “That was such a kind thing you did to help protect us.”
Rhea responded, “I didn’t do it to protect you—I did it to protect him. Because one day, he’s going to get sober, and he’s going to have to make amends for all these terrible things he’s doing. I was just trying to prevent him from having more things to make amends for.”
I love this concept so much. It spoke to me on a deep level. Rhea modeled empathy, clarity, and the importance of staying current in all her interactions.
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The day after hearing this podcast, I had a phone conversation with my ninety-four year old mother.
I have written to you about my mother before, but let’s do a quick review. Catholicism has been in my lineage on both sides going back generations. When I was in my early twenties, my parent’s left the Catholic Church and started a house church with ex-communicated priests and nuns. They were all seeking spirituality outside of the rigid structure of the church. My father passed seven years ago, so now my mother lives alone.
I aspire to be pure at heart whenever I listen to her. She has moments of confusion as her brain ages, but she is still fully present and thinking about the meaning of life and its deepest mysteries.
During this conversation I found myself lapsing into old patterns—maybe not being as kind as I could, possibly gossiping about my siblings. That’s something I’ve really been trying not to participate in. It’s just not good for either of us.
At one point, my mother mentioned that she had received a letter from my sister who has been estranged from both of us. The letter included a poem, something really deep and meaningful, something that truly touched her.
My mother told me that she had written back stating, “This is the first time I think I’ve read something where you truly touched on a deep connection to the soul.”
I reacted before I could catch myself, “Oh, she’s not going to want to hear that.”
My mom responded, “What’s that? You’re all muffled.”
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I immediately thought, “Oh my gosh, the universe just stepped in and scrambled that so I don’t have to make amends later just like when Rhea was trying to help her nephew.”
I smiled, laughed at my thoughts, and refocused on having a wonderful connection with my mother, learning what she is watching, reading and listening to.
Somehow we segued from my sister’s poem to talking about Saint John of the Cross, and the dark night of the soul, a topic that I have become interested in recently.
Having been raised Catholic, I really had no understanding of the whole importance of the saints and in particular, the mystics. The religious lessons of my youth had stripped away the deep connections to a higher power. What I have learned more recently is that over many centuries and throughout all world religions, the mystics have written beautifully about their experiences.
Before I could stop myself I replied, “Maybe that’s what my sister is experiencing. Hopefully, it doesn’t take her as long as Saint John of the Cross to transcend out of the dark night of the soul.”
Once again, my mom said, “What? You’re muffled again.”
I thanked the universe again for scrambling my message. It gave me a moment to pause and remember my commitment to be pure at heart.
Credit: sundogmosaics
I wish all of you a wonderful Valentines Day. I hope you will connect deeply with whomever it is that can help you bring meaning to your lives, just as my mother is bringing meaning to mine.
All my love-
Becky
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