Advent and Passion

Advent and Passion

I love the holidays. Especially the Holy Days of Christmas and Easter. I love pretty much all of it, including the more secular aspects of Christmas Trees and Santa and the Easter Bunny and Eggs, but more especially the meaning behind these special days, celebrating the birth and resurrection of Jesus. I loved the suspense of wondering what I was going to get in my stocking or basket as a child, and I love buying, wrapping and giving gifts at Christmas, and I love stuffing and hiding plastic eggs for my kids and nieces and nephew for egg hunts at Easter. I love the food! But the holidays have been hard, and they won’t ever be the same.

I guess because I’ve been pregnant twice during the Advent season I have felt a very close connection to Mary, Mother of Jesus. For nearly twenty years I have gotten emotional during Advent, thinking about how I felt, especially that first December when I was very pregnant with Mitchell, singing songs like "Mary, Did You Know" and then again in December of 2003, when I had a newborn Carson. We gave the final Advent reading at our church when Carson was not quite three weeks old, and although I was a pretty regular layreader, I couldn’t do it. I stood at the Advent candle and cried, overwhelmed with emotion. What did young Mary think? I knew I could was understand, at least a little, her nervousness, her wonder, her joy, like most any expectant mother. But to have known what she knew, how much more nervousness, wonder, and joy was added to her?

My soul glorifies the Lord, *

my spirit rejoices in God, my Saviour.

He looks on his servant in her lowliness; *

henceforth all ages will call me blessed.

The Almighty works marvels for me. *

Holy his name!

His mercy is from age to age, *

on those who fear him.

He puts forth his arm in strength *

and scatters the proud-hearted.

He casts the mighty from their thrones *

and raises the lowly.

He fills the starving with good things, *

sends the rich away empty.

He protects Israel, his servant, *

remembering his mercy,

the mercy promised to our fathers, *

to Abraham and his sons for ever.

(Magnificat, Divine Office)

Now, during this first Passion Week without Mitchell, I have been thinking a lot about Mary again. Unlike the wonder and joy of Advent of the Holy Child, or any child, thankfully not all mothers know what it is like to watch their child suffer and die. But I do. I know a little bit about what Mary felt – her anguish, her anger, her helplessness. Wondering why, wondering if it was really going to be worth it, wondering if God really knew what He doing, trusting that He did, He does.

25Meanwhile, standing near Jesus’ cross were his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.l 26When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he kept loving standing there, he told his mother,“Dear lady, here is your son.” 27Then he told the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. (John 19, International Standard Version)

So I will light a candle in Mitchell’s memory, take a stuffed lamb to his grave, and give thanks to Jesus for giving us hope – more than hope – faith, that we will be together again. And although we aren’t Catholic, I will think of Mary, acknowledging her hope, faith, and love for her Son.