I used to think in my early twenties that I would either make a go of the world, let go of my black and white, get elbow deep into the muck of the world, or move to Vermont...
I used to think in my early twenties that I would either make a go of the world, let go of my black and white, good vs. bad thinking, get elbow deep into the muck of the world, or move to Vermont... read more here
Choosing Each Other.

Choosing Each Other.

I often think, when I see Jesus on the cross, about the pain of Mary…

Why didn’t God just come into the world alone?  Why did he use one of us?  He could have redeemed us from this often difficult world all by himself without pain and a mum, but he didn’t…

He knew that snapping his fingers and fixing it all, doesn’t do much to connect us.  When I am hungry and I eat, I am connected to no one and satisfy only myself, but when I am hungry and I share my food with someone, feel the pang of not being quite full, but do it anyway, I am connected, by choice and by sacrifice.

As much as we fight against it, we are connected when we choose to sacrifice for others.  Whether it is in something very small or very very big, like the day Mary’s son was nailed to the cross for us.

Her son, the same young-ish man who turned water into wine for her at a wedding when they ran out and she told the catering crew to “do whatever he tells you”.  The same man who raised his friend Lazarus from the dead after 3 days.  The same man who stayed with his mum for 30 years, till the time was just right.  The same child she boldly said yes to when the angel Gabriel asked her if she would become mother of God.

He trusted her, he created her, he loved her, but now… He allowed pain, excruciating pain, to pierce not only himself, but his very own mother.  And in that pain they were connected forever.  Nails pounded through precious hands and humble dirty feet.  His life hanging there like meat… thirsty for water, thirsty for souls.  She stands beside, she stands below, steadied by faith, faith in Him.

She stands, she watches, she boldly stays with, and holds her lifeless son when it has ended, her heart shredded.

Willing to experience it all.  The joys and the sorrows.  She said yes to it all as a young woman even before she knew exactly what her “yes” would mean.  But she trusted her God and that somehow somehow it would all work out for good.

And it did.

Her pain has not been in vain, her joys have meaning.  She raised the son of God and then for us he was raised.

We all are given a yes or a no to this life we are given and we renew them constantly.

Mary’s yes in retrospect was monumental, world changing.

We can’t always fully grasp our “yeses”, and how sometimes it may mean the cross and other times a wedding stocked with wine made from water (Ummm, that must have been a great time!).  But each day we renew all sorts of little yeses and they matter.  They bring us and those around us closer to becoming the people we were meant to be.

I imagine Mary when I say yes at whatever life is throwing at me.  Mary, standing steadfast beside me, just like she was for Jesus, leading me by the model of her faith to her son, showing me a journey of joys and sorrows, sacrifice and choice, teaching me that in my yes, I am choosing more than just me.

With love from Vermont,

~Lisa

 

 

 

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