There’s the saint that picked me (thanks to Jen’s saints name generator) and my word for this year (goes nicely with last year’s word). There’s the pile of books I’ve read and some great quotes and a reflection or two about Saint Joseph (especially in light of the little Joseph we have in our arms).

The thing is, those things that I have to write about are in my head and there seems to be, right now, a disconnect between what’s rattling around in my head and my ability to type  share it.

Season of life. New baby. Adjustments.

I know. I know.

I’m jumping back into some of my regular real-life work this week, plus we have appointments and, thanks to a generous offer from my mother-in-law, I’m going to spend an hour in Adoration this week. Just me, no kids. (Does she rock or what?!)

All that is to say that my desk is a mess and I’m figuring out this baby and if I’m quiet here (and in the other places you find me), that’s why. Not that you needed to know. But I needed to tell.

More from me…sometime soon.

A Mary Moment Monday post

Nine days ago, it was Christmas. Nine days ago, it was a whole different year than now, 2010. Nine days ago, I began a special novena to Our Lady of Sorrows.

Today is an anniversary our family will hold dear and commemorate for many years to come. It is one that marked a ripping apart, a journey into pain, a year of worst fears coming true.

We have spent the year in prayer. We have spent the year with many tears.

We’re not done praying. We’re not done crying either.

All year, I’ve found myself examining Mary in light of sorrow and grief and especially in her title as Our Lady of Sorrows. I’ve gripped her hand and tried to let her do the worrying. I’ve placed worries and tears in her lap, trusting that her Son would nestle there and have special consideration for that heavy pile.

I want to write a lovely tribute about my deceased brother-in-law who, I’m ashamed to admit, I’ve come to admire and respect so much more in the closeness that’s come since his passing. I want to share deep thoughts and life-changing insights, but the fact is…I find that I can’t.

For one thing, it doesn’t feel like it’s my place. For another, I am at a loss for words. Though they usually string together for me, this time, they aren’t. They won’t. And I’m not forcing it.

When we watch our loved ones suffer, we suffer too. When we find ourselves unable to relieve them of their burden, we are changed, however slightly. This year, I have felt helpless, and I know I’m not the only one. I have done what I could, but it has felt piddling and inconsequential in the face of the huge pain and impossibility of so many aspects of this situation.

I have, above all, prayed.

So often, I hate being reduced to “just” praying. I hate not being able to show up and do-do-DO. And yet, looking back over the year and considering my own journey through grief with the people I love, I can’t help but see a glowing lesson, one that points me to prayer.

Today, I will begin another series of prayers. I will embrace Mary’s hand and marvel at the familiarity I find there. I’ll look to her face and find it as tear-streaked as my own, and I’ll remember that she knows this well. Not only did she carry her own grief through the Passion, but she looks on each of us, her children, and feels, so keenly, our burdens of heartache.

Perhaps more than anyone else, Mary understands.

Mary, Mother of Sorrows, be a mother to us.

image source

I was going to title this post “Change SUCKS,” because that’s just on my mind today, and has been for a few weeks.

Change is fun in many ways, invigorating even.  I’ve come to realize, though, that change causes me a lot of stress.

Whether it’s a new life situation or a different room arrangement, I don’t often choose excitement as my first reaction to change.

Usually, I pout and stomp and say things like “Change sucks.”

I used to work with an annoyingly upbeat guy who had a mantra, “Your feelings are not reality.”  He’d pipe up with this at about the time I was croaking “Change SUCKS” from beneath the piles of ideas on my desk.  He was like a little bird singing a happy song and all I wanted was to lounge under the storm clouds of my bad attitude.

I’m having one of those Mondays where Bad Attitude + Low Self Esteem = Change Sucks Mentality.  All day, his voice has been in my head reminding me that my feelings are not reality.

I don’t think Mary ever looked at her life and declared that change sucked. Faced with an unexpected pregnancy, she went to share the news.  When she realized she was going to give birth — to the Savior! — in a crude stable, I’m betting she didn’t start sulking and refuse to talk to Joseph for the rest of the night.  Given the the order to flee to Egypt with only what she had on her back, she probably didn’t moan about the timing.

Seeing her Son on that dusty road in Jerusalem, back striped from the scourging, stumbling and looking terrible, I don’t think she shook her fist at God…or at Pontius Pilate or the soldiers.  I don’t think she blamed a bad day or let it get her down.

On that very worst of days, Mary was facing change in a way that was hard indeed.  I’ve been at the foot of the cross a few times.  Talk about hard and life-altering.

We have all been at the foot of the cross.  We have all suffered greatly (though we may not think so).

What’s this have to do with change? In Mary, standing at the foot of the cross, I have my call to action about my resistance to change.  In Mary, toiling through everyday life, feeling frustrated and keeping her smile, I have my reason for fighting past this attitude.  In Mary, I have my mentor in how to approach change.

My soul magnifies the Lord,
And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.
For He has regarded the low estate of His handmaiden,
For behold, henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name.
And His mercy is on those who fear Him from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with His arm:
He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He has put down the mighty from their thrones,
and exalted those of low degree.
He has filled the hungry with good things;
and the rich He has sent empty away.
He has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of His mercy;
As He spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to His posterity forever.
(Luke 1:41-45, New Revised Standard Edition)