Sitting With Mary: Thursday's Reflection

I continue to journey with Mary.

Part of my meditation time these Advent mornings is to page through the book Holiness and the Feminine Spirit, The Art of Janet McKenzie, edited by Susan Perry, (Read about the artist and see images of her work here.) On these pages I journey with Mary, but perhaps not the Mary usually depicted in art through the ages: the serene, calm, radiant, and, of course, white Mary. 



Instead the Mary McKenzie depicts and the Mary I am coming to know has more grit. She sweats as she labors. She has big, strong hands that hold her son firmly. She stares with eyes that seem to say, "Here I am. Here we are. Don't mess with me." Yes, there is love there, too. The kind of "Mama Bear Love" all mothers understand. 

The Mary who sits with me doesn't look like me. But still I recognize her. I know her. In all her different colors and ethnicities. 











I read the essays that accompany the paintings--essays by wise women like Joan Chittister, Diana Butler Bass, Paula D'Arcy, Ann Patchett, Barbara Lundblad, Joyce Rupp and many others, and I feel as if we are women gathering at the well. We share the news of the day. We share our worries and wonderings and the ways we hope to make a difference, to create a better world for our children. We dream about the gifts our children will bring into the world. We give strength to one another. 

Sometimes we are midwives for each other. 

McKenzie's painting "Mary with the Midwives" fills in the Gospels' blank spaces. At that time in history and in that place midwives would have been alerted to an impending birth and would have hurried to assist the about-to-be mother during her labor and delivery. Mary would not have been the only woman in the stable, although centuries of nativity art would like us to believe that only men were present.

We women know better. The midwives were there. 

I think about the midwives in my life. Women who have made a difference as I have made decisions about what is next or how to best use my skills. Women who have influenced me, encouraged me, sat with me when I have needed comfort. Circles of women. Women, one by one. Women who are there when they are most needed. 

The women in my writing group are midwives for me. Like Mary's midwives, they urge me to push, to breathe, to dig deeper, to not give up. They cheer when I dare to share my latest chapter. They respond to my efforts with praise, but also with questions, with gentle prodding. They support my yearnings. "You can do this. You are doing this." They listen to my cries, "This is too hard. I don't think I want to do this anymore." They encourage me to be more myself on the page. They groan with me and rejoice with me. And I am so grateful.

We are midwives for each other, and therefore, the birthing continues. Just as Mary's midwives did, we help each other be  bearers of God. 

            We are all meant to be mothers of God, 
            for God is always needing to be born.  
                                     Meister Eckhart

An Invitation
 What is being born through you now and who are your midwives? 

NOTE: This is my last post for 2018. I will return on January 8. 
May you feel richly blessed on these holy days.