Feast of the Immaculate Conception.
So here is this story of a young girl, unwed who seems to basically take an Angel, the news she’s knocked-up, and the parenting of a baby deity in stride. I’m trying to imagine. Because you see I don’t always handle stuff well.
I mean, I’ve had some shocking news bits of late, both in the world and in my personal life, and I have been in this somewhat cautious cycle of shock, irritation, venting, confessing, praying and re-centering. It is Advent after all and it’s a season of re-centering.
I’ve heard the scripture about God not calling the qualified, but qualifying the called. I’ve learned this past year to accept what He has done to me, in calling me, even as it chafes. I couldn’t be more bewildered by it than that teenage Mary. But I cannot escape the feeling that she did it better, with grace and dignity.
Maybe that’s just a relic of an iconic image of her. Maybe she too cried because it seems so overwhelming and demanding. Perhaps she spent her 40 weeks of discernment being baffled by the world which had remained unchanged while she became irrevocably different.
Perhaps she simply did what we women were built to do, lifted the burden to her hip, swayed it as she walked, and trudged on. Perhaps she ran and wanted to tell her mother, but was afraid to hear her mother’s reaction when she had not yet had time to develop her own reaction. Perhaps she didn’t tell her but carried her burden into her marriage without sharing it.
I hope Mary had a good friend who brought her tea, jokes and stories and made her laugh so that she could endure the joyous burden. I hope she found joy, because the parts of her life I know from the Bible are full of sad, scary, and difficult things.
I hope she found peace in the life she lived after He ascended. I pray her soul is at peace now.