[monica is begging bishop ambrose for help with augustine, her prodigal son]

When he had said this to her, she was still unwilling to take No for an answer. She pressed him with more begging and with floods of tears, asking him to see me and debate with me. He was now irritated and a little vexed and said: 'Go away from me: as you live, it cannot be that the son of these tears should perish.' In her conversations with me she often used to recall that she had taken these words as if they had sounded from heaven.

confessions, iii.21

this quotation has haunted my memory since i read it for the first time. must have been close to 7 years ago. anyhow, i finally got it tonight. she is hannah, bereaved of children and shamed before the other women. her husband is dead, just as elkanah is a dead man as far as hannah (and the fruit of her womb) is concerned. ambrose is eli, who, in wanting to get rid of the persistent widow, judges rightly and promises redemption. and augustine will, like samuel, prophesy and lead his people out of the dark days of a dying dynasty. when the rest of the world seems to shatter (when the ark is taken), samuel is the unifying force behind israel, bringing justice beneath the terebinth trees. so as rome crumbles will augustine fight heresy from hippo.

For My Mother, On Her Birthday.

Once, when I was in my early twenties, either twenty-three or twenty-four, I remember driving somewhere with Mom. I was depressed. I don’t remember what had depressed me, but I was very sad. Mom and I were alone in the car. Mom could tell that I was depressed and was trying to cheer me up, although I didn’t want to be cheered up. Mom said, “I want some ice cream. Do you want some ice cream? I do.” I told her that I didn’t want any ice cream and Mom continued driving passed the restaurant where she had suggested we get ice cream. “Were you going to get some ice cream?” I asked, as we drove passed. She smiled and said, “No, that’s okay. I don’t want any.” I recall thinking, at that exact moment, that Mom loved me more than I loved her and that she knew this and that it did not bother her. I recall thinking that surely this was what love was— knowing that you loved someone more than they loved you and not being bothered by it. It was a wonderful moment. It was the first time in many years that I learned something very obvious and yet very true about love, and I told myself then that I should always remember that moment, lest I forget what love was.

by The Inimitable Gibbs