A friend at my parish came into the U.S. as a child with her family seeking asylum from the traumatic war and violence of their Central American homeland. The other day she recalled the scariest moment of her life, when death was at her doorstep and terror filled her eyes and ears. Rightly, she had panicked. And her mother looked at her firmly and squarely, with all the peace in the world, and said, “look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me. Only look at me.” She then began to sing the Our Father to the daughter she knew might not live to hear its ending.
My friend said upon thinking about the memory she had called her mother to see if she remembered it too. Indeed, she did, and said that in that moment she had surrendered herself, her husband, and each one of her beloved children to God. She had been free. She had walked on water, my friend said.
This is the motherhood of God that we don’t talk enough about. It’s also what it means to believe Christ is in us—not merely that we are empowered to live moral or even sacrificial lives, but that we have the capacity for unfathomable freedom. Freedom that propels us beyond the typical human experience, into the space of the Divine where all is love and all is trust. It’s that “Christ in me”ness that Mary embodied even before she literally bore Christ—an embodiment that we are all, each one of us, invited into. Free to occupy Divine spaces that we tend to think humans “can’t” experience. Free to walk on water. - 8 days ago