que pasa

The book ("Tuesdays with Morrie") is great: everybody should read it. I wept like Niagara Falls. But this post is not about the book. It is about my Morrie, and my experience with her today (which happens to be a Tuesday).

Morrie is my friend's mom. I mentioned her before in Momma. I went to visit her today because I got her something on my previous trip. I wanted to pass it to her before I flew again on this week. I had heard that she was much better now, but I wanted to see for myself.

Just as I walked into her house, fat droplets of rain started to come down - lucky me that I had found shelter. Morrie is much better. She has been in good spirits, and the illness seems to have taken a beating.

Morrie is a content mother of two grown kids, has deep confidence that they love her even if they do not always express it, and she truly believes in Papa's plans and love for her no matter what happens. And believe me, she has had her fair share of bad things.

I wonder why I am drawn to Morrie because I am not close to her. Maybe it is because she is a content person, and I am not. Or her desire to keep close to Papa's heart, which I still seem to lack. Maybe she is seems like older counsel who does not try to give advice on everything or be a know-it-all. Maybe because she is so appreciative of company. Or because I like listening to her stories. Or because I like sensing the respect and hopes she has for her children (this is not to say that I get none at home, merely that it is different). Maybe it is because medication aside, she is so aware of how Papa picked her up from the depths of her condition and holds her afloat today.

I was not quite sure how long I would be at Morrie's. Neither was I sure what we would talk about. But I did want to know how she was getting along, and it felt right making time to see her. Her home had this strange sense of peace and comfort. We talked about her work and mine and about the differences between the values and perspectives of her generation and mine, among other things.

I felt like Papa wanted me to tell her about some of my struggles about work but I held back because she would not understand. The rain kept on. Finally I relented and I said some stuff about work. She did not have the answers but with quiet confidence, she encouraged me to look to Papa for what is best for me. As clichéd as the words themselves sounded, I felt that she was speaking from true experience and she was not being patronizing. The rain stopped soon after and it was time to go. 

Maybe that is why I went to Morrie's. To be brought to a listening posture so that I would be receptive when reminded that Papa loves me and wants me to seek his counsel and his heart.