Sunday, December 13, 2015


Caravaggio (1571-1610), (detail) Rest on the Flight into Egypt 


Mary is so tired.  

So much traveling.  So much upheaval.

Mary is every mother who has had to gather her children and leave her home.

Less than a year ago she was still a girl.   Faithful, yes but I also think it was her innocence that allowed her to accept the words of the angel so easily.  “Of course I’ll have the Son of God.  Why not?”

Mary is every weary mother who left her girlhood behind sooner than she would have liked.

Mary has grown up a lot in the past months.  Faced the possibility being divorced, shamed and forced to raise a child alone.  Traveled away from home while heavy with child. 

Giving birth without her mother and aunts in a cave with only her husband.  In a time when men had nothing to do with childbirth.

Mary is every woman who has given birth in dangerous circumstances with little support.

Mary is every woman who has had to rise too soon from her childbirth bed, still bleeding and sore, still so very tired. 

Mary is every woman who has had to grab her children, put them in boats on dangerous waters and carry her child on foot so many miles.  

Mary is everyone woman who has heard of the carnage and death that took place after she left.

Mary is so very tired.

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