In Search of Light
She walks with a limp this morning. This lady in blue. Her very bones are sore from love and life and strife. The world celebrates her son's birth. She celebrates it, too. But today feels hard...
She walks with a limp this morning. This lady in blue. Her very bones are sore from love and life and strife. The world celebrates her son's birth. She celebrates it, too. But today feels hard…
You see, Mary’s son isn't in her arms. He's not at an arm’s length. In fact, only his Spirit has been left behind. And while that feels like comfort to many, and often even to her, right now it doesn't bring peace. It doesn't sew potential and purpose and good. She hopes these days will pass by quickly. Friends, followers, and townspeople reminding her of what once was. A baby at her breast. A joy unspeakable. She remembers the day when the veil tore and wonders if she was ever seen here. If she is seen now, today.
This is the first year that I encountered Mary’s pain, beloved.
Life offered me a new lens through which to view Mary’s journey. My rose-colored glasses shattered sometime early spring on day 21 of a migraine. Yet it wasn’t until the holiday season approached and I found talk of Mary bubbling to the surface of my social media feed that I realized all of us have something in common with the Mother of Christ. And, instead of it being an awkward experience of side glances and bookmarks stuffed between pages never to be returned to again, I plucked away at the soul food I found.
Sometimes we can be the light. Sometimes we need the light.
I am willing to believe that at some point along her path, Mary needed light.
So as I thought about what to share this Solstice and almost-Christmas with you - my tribe of beautiful, complicated humans - walking through pain and parenting and the darkness that flavors these places and spaces, I went to her. And, I began to see Mary in a new way. Her pain specifically - really, for the very first time. As a mother and as a person who has experienced loss firsthand in a multitude of ways.
Today, my writing When the Holiday Season is Too Hard is live on People Hope. I put my heart and soul into this article on what it’s like to live in loss, beloved. Personally, one of the most considerable losses of my life was the illusion of complete healing on earth. “When the Holidays are Too Hard” is about life and love and loss, looking in upon Mary - her journey post Jesus’ life, death and resurrection.
Whether or not you follow this Teacher of mine, I think you’ll find this a hope note:
When I was first diagnosed with dis-ease (chronic illness), I was young. Preadolescent and able to imagine a life of ease. One where I did not long for peace, because it was right at my fingertips. Two-plus decades later, it takes more work to summon up the courage to dream of what has never come to exist. Especially when the world is hustling and bustling. Chopping down massive trees with nary a thought, and then lugging them home to adorn pleasant pines with tassels and lights and bows. All on the same day.
I imagine a world where Mary, the mother of the Christ Child, felt the same. An angel comes to her and gifts her a message of unfathomable hope, sprinkled with a pain that she can't quite conceive just yet. She is young and tender. Untouched by the world's hurts. In fact, they seem impossible. She will bear a baby who will change the world! The King of kings is hers. And while the angel may have mentioned something about returning him one day... she hasn't gone there yet. Not in body. Not in mind. No, she is the mother of a miracle. What a blessing this will be… read more
If you are tackling any complicated life space, my prayer is that these words bring you to a place and space of greater peace, beloved. Because that’s what I live for. Reclaiming it (peace) in what’s complicated. For myself, for you, and for our entire caregiving community.
I love you and I see you,
J. 🌻 @thebarefootpreacher
Feel free to share this message on In Search of Light. It might just resonate with someone else who’s walked or rolled through a similar season.
If today’s words have been some sort of shining light in dark spaces and places, please feel free to email me back. You can also click subscribe below for weekly emails - most of them just like this.