Full of Grace

I have always wanted to be a mother. I didn’t play with dolls that often, that I remember at least, but I do remember always seeking out the babies and young kids. I just wanted to hold them, even when I was a kid myself. Growing up Catholic, it was normal for me to hear that Jesus’ mother, Mary, was also our mother in heaven who was praying for us. So, I said my ‘Hail Mary’s’ and, sometimes, tried to give such a perfect mother the honor she was due, but it was mostly out of a sense of obligation. I didn’t relate much to the Mother of God. There is a misunderstanding among many protestants, that Catholics worship Mary. We don’t. We know very well that Mary is a human and that worship belongs only to God. However, I completely understand how that perception could arise- between the rosaries, ‘hail Mary’s’, Mary statues, devotions, and cultural rituals, sometimes the Catholic (and Orthodox) church seems a bit fanatical when it comes to Mary. With my many protestant peers and friends growing up, I would try to downplay the “Mary part” about being Catholic. I think many Catholics in the U.S. have that feeling.

One summer after I graduated college, I was working as a camp counselor, like I had for many summers. One week there was an unbalanced ratio of boys to girls and I was given a boy’s group. They were the youngest group- mostly 7 year olds who had come on scholarship. They had come with maybe one change of clothes, no sleeping bag, and a defensive attitude that could have competed with the teenagers. One boy in particular was saying words that he shouldn’t even know. On the afternoon of the third day, he got triggered by something and started swearing and yelling at me and then he did what all caretakers fear…he started running away. Our camp is situated between a lake and a small ‘mountain.’ He was running up the mountain. I had no choice but to follow him, yelling for him to come back. He was so fast, but thankfully he sent my adrenaline surging and I was keeping  him in sight. Finally, he collapsed to the ground and cried, his anger turned to sadness. When I caught up to him, he told me how his mother treats him and how he wished I was his mother. This tough guy turned back into a little boy just like that and then, after exhausting all his physical and emotional energy, he fell asleep with mud streaked tears still on his face. I scooped him up in my tired arms and carried him down the mountain. His limp body was cradled in my arms for the next couple hours as I couldn’t bear to wake him up. I held this little boy, who wished to be my son, and wondered how I could take his pain away. That image would be imprinted in my mind and heart for months.

After college, I began searching for volunteer organizations. When I found Con-solatio, they explained to me that their mission is to be like Mary at the foot of the cross. They said they strive, with Mary’s help, to accompany those who are suffering, to be present to those who suffer with a suffering that cannot be easily fixed. I walked in their little chapel and saw an image of Michaelangelo’s Pieta (the statue of Mary holding the limp, dead body of Jesus). The image of my special camper came to me. Mary could not take away the suffering of her son, so she did what mothers do- she remained present to the end.

I joined Con-solatio and continued to be formed deeply by their maternal, Marian spirituality. During my orientation, we listened to a talk about Mary. I don’t remember what was said exactly, but I remember thinking she can’t know for certain what she was saying is true. I was fresh out of college and had practiced for 4 years learning about theology critically. I was in the habit of arguing theological premises rather than just taking them at face value. So, when I heard comments that were personally reflective rather than academic, I was quick to dismiss it. Later, as I thought back to this moment, I realized, of course she can speak the way she did, because she actually has a relationship with Mary to speak from. She was speaking about her mother, whom she knew and loved.

  It is difficult to describe what we do on a mission with Con-solatio because doing so means describing what a mother does. We accompany, we listen, we take care of our loved ones as best we can, we make and share a lot of meals. There were always children around. Not only was the spirituality of my community very Marian, I was sent to Central America, where I quickly learned how much they love Jesus’ mother. They are pretty fanatical, in fact. Images, paintings, and statues were everywhere- grocery stores, painted on buses, restaurants, public schools…even government buildings. They talked about her as casually as you would talk about your friend. “Ask the Mother to help you,” they would say in response to some daily worry. “Our Lady gave me strength,” they would say after telling about some difficult experience they went through. “La virgencita guide you,” they would say when we departed. It made me a little uncomfortable at first. I was still used to being in the U.S. where we minimize our affection for Mary. I heard my protestant friend’s arguments in my head. ‘If you are talking to Mary all the time, isn’t that taking away from talking to Jesus?’ That argument rattled around in my head, until slowly I realized what I was experiencing was the exact opposite. The more I grew in a relationship with my heavenly mother, the easier it became to follow her son, the easier it became to hear her son’s calling. Like any good mother, she does not want anything for herself- she wants only what her son wants. If I am wondering how to stay close to Jesus, who better to teach me than the one who loved him best? The one who says to me and to all, “do whatever He tells you” (Jn 2:5). Worrying that a relationship with the mother of God could be a distraction from Jesus, is like worrying that a relationship  with my own mother could be a distraction from Jesus. God wants us in relationship. From the very beginning that was His intent. Holy relationships enhance, not detract from a relationship with God.

The women in Honduras are strong. They often parent without the fathers around. The men have lost their dignity by failing to find work, this failure causes many to turn to alcohol and abandonment. With the abandonment by men, new young moms turned to their moms. Many, if not most, of the children in my neighborhood were predominantly raised by their grandmothers. There is a kinship among the older woman. They possess a wisdom and a strength that comes from experiencing much suffering. They turn to their heavenly mother, because they relate to her in so many ways. Like Mary, they have had their boys unjustly condemned (it is a mother’s worst nightmare to have her sons targeted by the gangs for they have no choice but to join or be killed). Like Mary, many of them have lost a child to violence. Like Mary and most mothers, they have learned that their needs come second to their child’s. They know humility and smallness because they live it every day.

Mary has appeared in many countries around the world. She always appears to children or poor ones, the ones who would be least expected to make a big difference. Her message is always similar, she calls the people her children and teaches them to follow Jesus. When I returned to the U.S. I felt called to continue my education in theology and get my Master’s. I was inspired to write my final thesis on the story I grew to love in Honduras- the apparition of Our Lady of Guadalupe. I won’t re-write my thesis for you here, but I argue that Mary’s “method of evangelization” (though she would not call it that) was what led to hundreds of thousands of people in modern day Mexico becoming Christian and following Jesus. Her “method” I argue is one of enculturation and maternal presence. She appears to a poor, simple-minded farmer and calls him her son and offers him solace. She appears looking and speaking like an indigenous woman. She appears wearing a sash around her waist that is the sign that a woman is pregnant- she comes bearing the son of God.

There are several moments in scripture that depict an event in the life of Mary. I have meditated on them all. One such event is called the Visitation. In it, a teenage Mary has just learned she is to bear the son of God. The angel also tells her of another miracle- that her cousin who is well past child bearing age is also pregnant. Scripture says she, “goes in haste” (Luke 1:39) to attend to her cousin. Though her own mind must be spinning with the consequences of the angel’s message for her own life, her reaction is to go be of service to someone else. Although Mary’s pregnancy would not yet be showing, her cousin greets her with the words, “And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy.” (Luke 1:41) It is a beautiful scene that has been depicted in art many times- two strong women who both bear sons, one old, one young, they understand each other and support each other. They know what it is to be a woman in their world. Mary brings the son of God to her cousin.  We are called to also bring the son of God to everyone we meet.

Mary’s response is a beautiful song that is repeated in evening prayer every night. It became a song that I experienced in my own soul. She sings of being amazed that God would look at her, let alone raise her up from being so lowly and small. She sings of the joy that comes from being a servant of God. She is in awe that she would get to participate in God’s great plan. She tells of all that God will do like, “casting down the mighty from their thrones and lifting up the lowly.” She sings, “my soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my savior” (Luke 1:46-55). I had already meditated on this verse many times, however, there was a season of my life, when I was pregnant with my second child, that 3 different priests at 3 different churches gave me as a penance for my confession: the task to meditate on this song. Just so you know, this is not a normal penance. Usually, following a confession, the priest will ask you to pray a certain prayer or even seek reconciliation from the person you have offended. As I carried my baby in my womb I contemplated how I too could let, ‘my soul proclaim the greatness of the Lord,’ and how I too could bring the son of God to all those I meet.

Six months after I finally became a mother, I lost my own mom unexpectedly. The grief was intense and overwhelming. I questioned my ability to be a good mom without her guidance. I became overly anxious about losing anyone else I loved, particularly my kids. However, one thing was revealed to me during this time that is still a light for me. I finally experienced what it means when Christians say in the creed they believe in the “communion of saints.” My mom was not here in the same way anymore, and that loss was felt deeply. But, in so many ways and experiences it was so clear to me how she was still praying for me and my family and loving me. And it struck me- of course, the people who go before us to a place of perfect love will only love better. They are so close to us cheering us on, so that we can experience this love fully too someday when there is no more separation.

Most recently, in my journey of fostering, my heavenly mothers have been especially close. People are pretty quick to tell me that they could never foster. I want to respond- I’m totally incapable of fostering either! I have had to have a surrender that does not come from my own strength. I have had to hand these little ones over and trust them to God. I have to hold them in my arms knowing I can’t take away their pain. I may not be able to be the mother that stays with them to the end, but they do have this kind of mother. I think of Mary who endured such surrender, such pain, yet “held these things in her heart” (Luke 2:19) and I know she understands and I know she loves and I know she’s whispering to trust in God’s love and I sense her love for all God’s children.