Ave Maria

I've been thinking of Mary lately. She seems new to me somehow, the last few years, especially this year. She's a bigger part of the story, a real character, a real player. She, the mother of the very Son of God. As I nurse the bug to sleep each night, I think of her on that first Christmas night, nestled in the dark warmth of the everyday basics that sheltered them. I think of the moment when my babies were born, and handed to me. That exquisite first cry that twice has unlocked secret and incredible reserves of love, patience, and gratitude within me. Then the time-stopping moment when each of my girls have looked at me with completely perfect confidence. I am their mother, together with their father I will teach and shelter them. Equip them appropriately to live their lives. They know this, and so I am given the ability to believe it as well. Those moments have crystallized in my memory, they have transformed from wispy impressions to a nearly tangible image. And with each of those moments, a new me began. As if each of my sweet ones gave life to me, instead of the other way around. Since becoming a mother, my heart and soul have expanded and risen like a balloon filled with hot air. And from this altitude, the vista has been something else. If this is true for me, how much more so for the woman whom Gabriel declared blessed among all? How she must have gloried in that baby, wondered at that child. How her heart must have broken as they nailed Him to the cross. And how infinitely she must have rejoiced at His return! The magnitude of her faith has become indescribable in my mind. As I celebrate this season, as we celebrate Jesus Christ, my heart, dear Mary, spills over with joy for you. Merry Christmas.