Tis the season….to be jolly, to be tired, to be overwhelmed and exasperated.  Tis the season to be…amazed, to be hopeful, to be childlike and blissfully innocent.  Tis the season… to be tested, to be insulted, to be hurt and healed.  Tis the season… to sing, to dance, to cry and to worship.  Tis the season…to love and be loved.  You can sing those words if you like, I can’t hear you.

      Every Christmas season, I find myself writing about Mary.  How could I resist ?  The subject, the story…is just so delicious, and dangerous all at once .  I know she was scared, and I know she was full of faith that this rocky road was hers alone to travel.  A destiny that she would not deny . A beautiful baby, a cross to bear.  Unrestrained love, and unspeakable pain.  One in the same. Motherhood ….magnified.

              As I sit and type, I want you to know…I am a mother. I have given life, and I have spoken truth, I have guided gently, and I have spoken as sharp as a knife. I have loved honestly, and with my whole heart…shattered at times.  And even when I think that I cannot take any more, God keeps picking up the pieces and putting them back together in this mosaic work of art….work of the heart (ha !) So Mary…I lift you high, and I think on you during this season of Christmas, and during the hard seasons of mothering.