Mary’s Time

For some Christmas is about the presents, the big meals or even seeing old friends and family…but for me, this is Mary’s time. I adore Mother Mary. Through her, I have learned to be a better me. Oh sure, this may sound trite, even a touch phony – but it’s true.

I did not always feel this way. I struggled with Mother Mary for years. I didn’t understand how she could just stand by and watch Jesus die on the cross. How could she not throw herself before the soldiers shouting, “Take me, take me instead?” What kind of mother was she? With time, I discovered, she was the best kind of mother.

Years ago when my own son was in a very real health crisis, I came to know Mary’s heart. Mary loved her son. She loved Jesus so much that she was able to stand at the foot of the cross as he bled and bled. She remained with him to his very last breath when he finally cried out to his father above. Mary stayed close by. She believed in Jesus and his own separate purpose.

Was it difficult? Unimaginably painful, just ask any parent of a suffering child. Some parents can’t stay though the suffering. Some parents runaway or reject seeing their child in pain. But many, many more faithfully stay and look for cures. Still others find grace when there are no cures. And there in the shadows Mary waits too, grace and peace swirl at her feet.

For Mary stayed – at the birth, in the raising of her precious son, at the feasts of celebration and sadly, at the cross too. As far as we know she did not try to sway Jesus from his purpose, she loved him. She trusted his boyhood days that found him arguing with the rabbis in temple when he should have been in the fields. She trusted in his many trips to the desert when he would came back ablaze with the divine, overflowing with new ideas. Such radical new ideas of faith…yet she trusted Jesus.

She also trusted in the unseen divine that sometime requires much…Did she not know herself the cost? The sting of judgment? Pregnant and without a husband, forced out by her community. Mary knew all too well the cost of faith…

Mary has come to me many times throughout my life. I am unbelievably blessed to have such intimate moments with her. The first time I experienced the presence of Mary as an adult I was overwhelmed. My first thought was I am not worthy, there are more important people/problems than me. I felt her outpouring love even more keenly at that moment and the words, “You are my beloved child, nothing is more important” boomed in my mind.

Words can not properly express the magnitude of this moment for me. The best I can say is my life split – before I was alone and after, I was forever held. Not only did I realize that I was held but that everyone was being held by unseen forces at every moment. I saw ways in my own childhood that Mary’s presence had been there even though I couldn’t see it at the time.

Here’s the important part – bad things happened and I am still the beloved child. I’ve made peace with my past. Even though there were certainly hardships, I know I wouldn’t be the person I am today without them.

Again, this may sound trite, too easy an answer, but it’s true. Peace is usually standing right next to you, but only you can truly believe you are worthy to partake in the feast…You’ll have to stop beating yourself up, judging your own failings – real or imagined, you’ll have to allow yourself to come down from your own self-imposed cross into the waiting arms of peace. For Mary is waiting there, loving you just the way you are, patiently waiting for you to come home…

Merry Christmas

Sure, at first glance it would seem these two women have very little in common, but let’s look again: both were too young when one afternoon their lives changed forever; both were strong & independent; and both were fiercely loyal. 

Scarlett was my first hero.  I read Gone With the Wind probably six times before I was eighteen.  I loved that Scarlett was tough as nails all the while looking gorgeous and batting her eyelashes.  I instantly connected to her love of the land – her red earth…Obviously the Irish thing was a huge pull, but I loved that Scarlett grew-up too.  Her heart and its wantings changed with time and age.

Like Scarlett, I didn’t appreciate the value of female friendships until after I had had children – women were always competition before. Take Melanie – she was no simpering fool although she often appeared helpless due to her poor health, but time and time again she supported Scarlett when no other would.  In contrast Ashley appeared to be noble, forthright and strong, but really he was just an anchor to the past instead of the rock Scarlett first perceived him to be.  Melanie was the rock…and Scarlett.

Scarlett would do anything, say anything to protect her beloved Tara and what was hers.  Of course there were costs in this.  Things were sticky – to save Tara and give her family a home, she married her sister’s fiancée.  She stole him really, all while penniless and gorgeous in her new green, velvet dress, a.k.a. the parlor drapes.  How could you not love her???

Mother Mary wasn’t so easy for me to attach to initially.  First off – the story of a virgin birth, can we say tramp?  Cover-up?  It took me years to allow the possibility of this story – the leap of faith.  I had to come to understand the teachings and environment of these stories.  I discovered there was much more space in the details of the events. 

As you may know Jesus was a Jew and his story was originally told by spoken word through his disciples – something akin to a Rabbi.  Well, one forgets that the Rabbi told stories and allegories to teach their followers – the details were shifted a bit to keep the story interesting and connect to audience they spoke before.  They were, in many cases, the entertainment of the day.

For example, Jesus was forever going off for 40 days – to the desert, in isolation, whatever, but did he go off for forty days?  Back then, when someone said, “forty days,” it just meant a long time.  The audience then knew this; however it is us, the exact interpreters that need things to be black and white.  This taught me about flexible thinking…but I digress, back to Mary. 

Mary has always challenged me not only by the virgin birth, but also, how could she just stand there during the crucifixion of Jesus?  How could she not shout out, “Stop, stop, take me.  Take me, please, please, take me…”  What kind of mother was she???

It took me years to discover she was exactly the kind of mother I strive to be everyday.  She supported her son and the decisions he made for his life because she trusted him…and God.  This was Jesus’ life and she stood by, faithfully until the end. 

How could she deny the truth of what Jesus predicted to unfold?  Hadn’t she also heard Gabriel announce her own difficult path?  How many called her a tramp as she walked by? Perhaps her village shunned her…but she accepted her path and held fast to her own truth.  How could her child do less when so called?  And again, where else would Mary be, but at Jesus’ feet as he shouted out his last? 

I believe, Mary knew the glory to be on the other side for Jesus.  You see, Mary knew magic and miracles every day – every time she saw Jesus’ smile she was reminded how real they truly are…

There you have it – Scarlett and Mary, my two heroines of tales gone by, who guide me each day to a brand new tomorrow, where possibilities unfold and magic is surely lurking just beyond…

Who are your heroes???

For some Christmas is about the presents, the meals or maybe seeing old friends and family…but for me, this is Mary’s time.  I adore Mother Mary.  Through her, I have learned to be a better me.  Oh sure, this may sound trite, even a touch phony – but it’s true. 

 I did not always feel this way.  I struggled with Mother Mary for years.  I didn’t understand how she could just stand by and watch Jesus die on the cross.  How could she not throw herself before the soldiers shouting, take me, take me instead?  What kind of mother was she?  I discovered, the best.

 When my own son was hurt I came to know Mary’s heart.  Oh did Mary love her son.  She loved Jesus so much she was able to stand at the cross as he bled and bled, until finally shouting out his last.  Mary believed in Jesus and his own separate purpose. 

 Was it difficult?  Unimaginably painful, just ask any parent of a suffering child.  Some parents can’t stay, some runaway or reject seeing their child in pain.  But many more faithfully stay and look for cures.  Still others find grace when there are no cures.  And if they are looking, each discovers the grace of Mary.

 Mary stayed – at the feasts and sadly, at the cross too.  As far as we know she did not try to sway Jesus from his purpose, she loved him.  She trusted his boyhood days that found him arguing with the rabbis in temple when he should have been in the fields.  Or his many trips to the desert when he would came back ablaze with the divine, overflowing with new ideas.  She trusted Jesus.    

 She also trusted in the unseen divine that sometime requires much…Did she not know herself the cost?  The sting of judgment?  Pregnant and without a husband, forced out.  Mary knew all too well the cost of faith…

 Mary has come to me many times throughout my life.  I am unbelievably blessed to have such intimate moments with her.  The first time I really experienced the presence of Mary as an adult I was overwhelmed.  My first thought was I am not worthy, there are more important people/problems than me.  I felt her outpouring love even more keenly at that moment and the words, “You are my beloved child, nothing is more important” boomed in my mind. 

 Words can not properly express the magnitude of this moment for me.  The best I can say is my life split – before I was alone and after, I was forever held.  Not only did I realize I was held but that everyone was being held by unseen forces at every moment.  I saw ways in my own childhood that Mary’s presence had been there even though I couldn’t see it at the time.

 Here’s the important part – bad things still happened and I am still the beloved child.  I’ve made peace with my past.  Even though there was certainly hardship, I know I wouldn’t be the person I am today without it. 

 Again, may sound trite, easy answer, but it’s true.  Happiness is usually standing right next to you, but only you can truly believe you are worthy to partake in the peace…You’ll have to stop beating yourself up, judging your own failings – real or imagined, you’ll have to allow yourself to come down from your own self-imposed cross into the waiting arms of peace.  She’s just waiting there, loving you just the way you are, patiently waiting for you to come home…

 Merry Christmas

Sure, at first glance it would seem these two women have very little in common, but let’s ponder this idea: both were too young when one afternoon their lives changed forever; both were strong & independent; and both were fiercely loyal. 

 Scarlett was my first hero.  I read Gone With the Wind probably six times before I was eighteen.  I loved that Scarlett was tough as nails all while looking good and batting her eyelashes.  I instantly connected to her love of the land – her red earth…Obviously the Irish thing was a huge pull, but I loved that Scarlett grew-up too.  Her heart and its wantings changed with time and age, from men to friendships. 

 Like Scarlett, I didn’t appreciate the value of female friendships until after I had had children – women were always competition before. Take Melanie – she was no simpering fool although she often appeared helpless due to her ill health, but time and time again she supported Scarlett when no other would.  Whereas Ashley appeared to be noble and forthright, but really he was an anchor to the past instead of the rock Scarlett first perceived him to be.  Melanie was the rock…and Scarlett.

 Scarlett would do anything, say anything to protect her beloved Tara and what was hers.  Of course there were costs in this.  Things were sticky – as she saved Tara and gave her family a home, she stole her sister’s fiancée, all while penniless and gorgeous in her new green, velvet dress, a.k.a. the parlor drapes.  How could you not love her???

 Mother Mary wasn’t so easy for me to attach to initially.  First off – the story of a virgin birth, can we say tramp?  Cover-up?  It took me years to allow the possibility of this story, the leap of faith.  I had to come to understand the teachings and environment of these stories.  I discovered there was much more space in the details of the events. 

 As you may know Jesus was a Jew and his story was originally told by spoken word through his disciples – something akin to a Rabbi.  Well, one forgets that the Rabbi told stories and allegories to teach their followers – the details were shifted a bit to keep the story interesting and connect to audience they spoke before.  They were, in many cases, the entertainment of the day.

 For example, Jesus was forever going off for 40 days – to the desert, in isolation, whatever, but did he go off for forty days?  Back then, when someone said, “forty days,” it just meant a long time.  The audience then knew this; however it is us, the exact interpreters that need things to be black and white.  This taught me about flexible thinking…but I digress, back to Mary. 

 Mary has always challenged me not only by the virgin birth, but also, how could she just stand there during the crucifixion of Jesus?  How could she not shout out, “Stop, stop, take me.  Take me, please, please, take me…”  What kind of mother was she???

 It took me years to discover she was exactly the kind of mother I strive to be everyday.  She supported her son and the decisions he made for his life because she trusted him…and God.  This was Jesus’ life and she stood by, faithfully until the end. 

 How could she deny the truth of what Jesus predicted to unfold?  Hadn’t she also heard Gabriel announce her own difficult path?  How many called her a tramp as she walked by? Perhaps her village shunned her…but she accepted her path and held fast to her own truth.  How could her child do less when so called?  And again, where else would Mary be, but at Jesus’ feet as he shouted out his last? 

 I believe, Mary knew the glory to be on the other side for Jesus.  You see, Mary knew magic and miracles every day – every time she saw Jesus’ smile she was reminded how real they truly are…

 There you have it – Scarlett and Mary, two heroines of tales gone by guide me each day to a brand new tomorrow, where possibilities unfold and magic is surely lurking just beyond…

 Who are your heroes??? 

Many years ago, I felt lost in my life.  I felt alienated from my husband, my kids, my parents, my friends, even myself.  Sometimes I could see my part in the problem, but more often than not, I saw others to blame. I knew I didn’t want to live this way, so I sought help through a hypnotherapist, Christina.  When I met her, she sparkled, and I thought, “I want some of that joy.”  She looked happy and peaceful from the inside out.

We began to discuss my childhood. I grew up in a violent, alcoholic, often frightening  home and like many other children of alcoholics, I don’t really remember much.  I have very few memories.  Since my childhood was so unsafe, Christina suggested we find a spiritual mother for me through hypnotherapy.  This was all very new to me.  I thought, “Spiritual Mother, What?  Don’t I have a Mother?  How could that help?”  Fortunately, I was so desperately unhappy, I was willing to try anything.

Christina began guiding me through a very relaxing visual meditation, finally leading me into a meadow.  In the back of my mind, I was thinking, “I wonder if this works?  I hope someone shows up.”  I was even a little scared that maybe no one would come.  Then, out of the woods, there she was.  Floating towards me.  Bursting with joy.  Arms flung wide.  There before me was Mother Mary in Blue.  Blue veil, blue dress.  So beautiful.

In my head I heard her say, “I have always been here with you.  I’ve just been waiting for you to see me.  I love you.”  Tears streamed down my face and as I felt her words, I thought: “I am so not worthy.  Doesn’t she have places to be?  Isn’t she needed somewhere else?  I’m not important enough.”  And, “I was raised by two atheists and Mary is my spiritual mother?  Wow.”

I couldn’t stop crying.  Her unconditional love, her absolute adoration of me, her child, was overpowering and life-giving.

After the session ended, I kept seeing the experience in my head over and over, awed by the whole session.  What did it mean?  Later, sitting in my office at home, still contemplating the afternoon, I looked up and saw the picture.  I giggled.  The framed picture my mom had given me before the birth of our first child stared back at me.  More giggling escaped my lips and then a burning in my throat.  Hot, stinging tears fill my eyes.

I had always wondered at the content of the picture.  As a child, we never went to church.  My mother didn’t believe in God, calling herself a recovering Catholic.  I read my name in the corner of the picture: Kelly, 1975.  I was five years old when I drew the scene.

There, from the frame, smiling broadly at me, is my Mother Mary, floating next to a very happy baby with the word “joy” croakily written above.  Both their faces sparkle!  Glittery star beams touch their heads.  I look into the blue eyes of the Mary I drew as a child and I hear, very clearly, from deep within, “I have always been here with you.  I have been waiting for you to see me.  I love you.”   Finally, I know it.  Mary has been here, next to me, loving me unconditionally, always.  I felt peace at last.  I was never alone.  I am never alone.

Today I see images of Mary everywhere.  I am constantly reminded of her presence and love in my daily life.  I feel her unconditional love for all of us.  Friends and clients have told me their own “Mary” stories.  I am grateful for the stories, because, sometimes I feel a little lost again.  Life is joyful, but also remarkably stressful.  The new stories and images remind me, again and again, of the love that surrounds me always, even in the dark of night.

Maybe you are feeling lost and alone.  Today, I can tell you with absolute faith, you are not alone.  I am grateful to be able to help others discover this truth.  Right next to you is spirit.  Cheering you on.  Loving you…waiting for you to see.  Waiting to lift you up.  So, ask – knock.  The door will open for you.