(I was) Naomi's steward

I came across this picture of Naomi sleeping recently. At first it reminded me of her death and filled me with the pain of loss.

 The phrase "sleep in heavenly peace" came to me. (A small comfort.)

When she completed her earthly course in May of this year, Naomi was 2 years and 3 months old. This end to her earthly life was sudden and unexpected. One moment she was our wonderful, joyful, beautiful, funny little girl (daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece, cousin, friend, etc.), running and skipping, jumping and dancing, poking and joking, hugging and kissing, picking flowers, blowing bubbles, feeding our resident pheasant, sleeping every night in her bedroom across the hall from us (actually me, often enough, sleeping with her); the next her soul had departed and we had the devastating pain of holding her lifeless body before saying goodbye to that too, leaving us with only her favorite pink princess nightie lying in her empty bed.

Of course this has been terribly painful. We cling to the pictures and short videos and memories we have of Naomi.

But we also believe that Naomi is God's beloved daughter just as much as she is ours. It is simply a fact that it wasn't us who had the idea of Naomi, this precious unique individual, and then created her for ourselves - and this fact surely has consequences, whatever else you believe. We believe she was a blessing bestowed upon us by God. When this happened, when she was conceived in Theresa's womb and began her existence, she was placed under our stewardship. We were stewards. (See below*, excerpt from Chrysostom's commentary on the parable of the wasteful steward (Lk. 16).) But God has always been and will always be her Lord, and difficult as it is, we have to be content to accept the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God (to borrow a phrase). He created her for us, it is true, to be our daughter (sister, etc.); but first for himself, to be his daughter, to be a unique and precious part of his creation and an eternally blessed participant in his own divine life.

Contemplating the picture of Naomi sleeping, I thought of the host of those to whom St. Paul refers as 'sleeping,' who are now (somehow) with the Lord - and with Naomi, in that calm and bright holy night, which to us seems so silent. I thought of each time Naomi slept, and of the fact that each of her (and our) sleeps could have been her (or our) last on Earth: each time we enter the subconscious night of sleep - in a way analogous to death - we can never be entirely certain where we shall visit or to what we shall awaken...

For now we (who love her) must awaken to the absence of precious Naomi. This is often difficult. But we also believe that she has been granted an early passage to eternal rest, light, and joy, with Jesus, our holy mother Mary, and all God's saints. This too is one of God's gifts, and is a gift to us just as Jesus' death was a gift to us: "If I am lifted up from the Earth, I will draw all people to myself." First Jesus spoke these words (John 12:32); now Naomi too is among those drawing us up. Certainly, while Naomi was alive with us, we did thank God for his gift of her to us - as we thank him still for the gift of her life, and for Isaac, Nathaniel, and Tabitha - and we recognized the primacy of his Lordship over our stewardship (we might as well - it's not exactly optional). But while it is obviously not the gift we would have chosen, we believe that her death too is a part of the Lord's provision for us, a gift of God's merciful love, whereby he calls us to a greater perfection in accepting the gospel, in understanding who we are and how to be humble stewards of God's gifts, and in learning to trust in him as Lord, giver of life.

 

***

Silent night, holy night

All is calm, all is bright

Round yon virgin mother and child

Holy infant so tender and mild

Sleep in heavenly peace

*St. John Chrysostom: "An erroneous opinion, weighed down by mortal things, increases the reproaches due to us, and diminishes the good: such an opinion is to think that whatever we possess for the needs of life, we possess as lords; and thus we also grasp such things as if they were the most important goods. But the contrary is true: for in the present life we are not placed as lords in our own house, but as strangers and foreigners we are led where we wish not, and for how long we see not: who now has a secure place, in a short time becomes a beggar. Wherefore, whoever you are, know that you are the dispenser of another’s things, and that the rights over them have been conceded to you for a passing and brief time of use. Putting away from your soul, then, the arrogance of lordship, assume the humility and moderation of a steward." [Opinio quaedam erronea aggravata mortalibus auget crimina, minuit bona: ea vero est opinari quod ea quaecumque possidemus in usu vitae, possideamus ut domini; et ideo etiam opportune ea apprehendimus tamquam bona praecipua. Sed contrarium est: non enim nos ut domini in vita praesenti collocati sumus in propria domo, sed tamquam hospites et advenae quo nolimus ducimur, et quo tempore non putamus: qui nunc locuples est, in brevi fit mendicus. Ergo quicumque sis, noveris te esse dispensatorem alienorum, et quod transitorii usus et brevis tibi iura concessa sunt. Abiecto ergo ab anima dominii fastu, sumas humilitatem et modestiam villici.] (From Aquinas' Catena aurea in Lucam, c. 17, lc. 1.)