Autopilot.  It is a feeling that I think most of us have either felt or certainly understand.  And there we were on autopilot.  

We were going through the motions of life, completing the hundreds of tasks that needed to be finished, but in a very unknowing, automatic way.  Those around us – both far and near – were helping us move along.  Our son , Matthew, had died and it was now time to figure out every next step that has to be figured out when a loved one journeys on.

I actually have no recall as to the details on how we learned about the New Melleray Abbey except I know that our dear friends – whose son, Torre, had sadly journeyed on many moons before – graciously forwarded the information somehow to us, and we miraculously received it.

To this day, I am still unsure how that transmission transpired. For during this time, I was not making or taking phone calls.  I was not reading or sending email or checking any social media.   We barely answered our door.  But we still had to make all the decisions and choices that all families make in the same situation as ours.  And as we all know, it is hard.

December was ending and January arriving, and the weather was exactly what that time of the year brings.  Freezing temperatures. Moments of snow.  Some moments with nice peaks of sun. Some moments with ice everywhere.  And a stillness that comes with all that is winter. 

The holidays were in a crescendo as the world prepared to celebrate the new year. It truly seemed as if I were living the words to Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowing Evening” with many promises to keep and miles to go before we finished our sad task.

We called New Melleray Abbey.  Their prayerful efforts, their spiritual intention, their focus on quality in both their handiwork and in their godly work felt so appropriate for what we wanted. Our friends guided us to them and they were so correct in doing so.  When we called the Abbey, there was a developing snowstorm in Peosta, Iowa. Plus it was the beginning of the New Year holiday.  

Though we felt it would be a right fit for Matthew, there were circumstances well beyond our control.  Travel and delivery in our timeframe was simply impossible. The Abbey knew it and we knew it.  There was little that any of us could do or say.  We thanked the Trappists Monks in our call to them and understood that we needed to make alternative plans.  

Within fifteen minutes of ending that conversation, we received just one more call.  It was the New Melleray Abbey.  They had done some pondering. They wanted to help. Though delivery was impossible via their regular over-the-road trucking service due to timing and weather, they had another solution.  Leaving from Peosta, Iowa immediately, circumventing weather and graciously sacrificing the New Year holiday, an individual from the Abbey would be able to use their own Ford 350 to complete delivery just in time.

And the Abbey did so, and when delivery occurred, we did not have the opportunity to meet, see, or thank the person who so thoughtfully helped us.  I knew nothing about the particulars or the driver who so graciously journeyed to our town to help us.  Nothing.

For many of us – me included – there is something challenging . . . something difficult . . . in accepting help, any kind of help – even when it is so needed and necessary.  It is even more difficult to accept help – needed and necessary help – from an unknown source . . . from someone who is not a family member, who is not a close friend, who I may have never met.

I have always been proud of being relatively self-sufficient, of being able to generally fend for myself and take care of most of the challenges that crept up in my life.   As I have grown up, I have learned to be comfortable relying on my husband or my children or a handful of close family members and friends who have graciously helped me throughout my life. 

This circumstance was different. 

A stranger to me – a complete stranger – went truly above and  beyond.  I had to learn to be willing to and humble in accepting assistance without the ability to reciprocate in any way.  I had to understand that I needed help, that it was being offered, and that it was coming from a source hundreds of miles away. 

The New Melleray Abbey had found a solution to our situation. They considered the less prominent solution, the more challenging solution, the one that was going to be most difficult for them in all ways, and went for it.  They didn’t allow me to fixate on the barriers that I was seeing.  They looked beyond those barriers and created a whole new strategy. 

The New Melleray Abbey simply would not accept my inability to creatively resolve what seemed to me to be insurmountable circumstances.  Instead, they looked kindly and determinely past me and continued with their plans.  Full speed ahead. No stop. They set a powerful example on what true kindness means. My role – watch, listen, learn.

Thank you, New Melleray Abbey.