High in the loft, You woke me from a heavy sleep;
Ask my mother. That in itself is nothing small.
You prodded, first in a whisper...then with a more urgent poke.
As the morning fog lifted, my dazed thoughts pushed back,
'But I don't know how. I don't know the way...' is what I spoke.
But you didn't listen. Or did you? You make up where I lack.
I recall thinking back, I spoke about this to your Spouse,
Your Father, Your Son.
I can continue in holiness without this can't I?
But in the end, Your persistence won.
The morning was silent and still; birds at the feeder without a care.
I spoke to you for the first time; timid and small,
with a contrite spirit, as if somehow God would be angry.
Did I know then He wanted to give me His Mother, His all?
Did I know He cared enough to open mysteries
That only you shared as you pondered in Your heart?
Did I know He would bring me deeper still
Under Your mantle and in these mysteries I should take my part?
For days, and weeks You chased me down, every thought of You brought a tear.
Running to the chapel I sat alone...Dear God, what do You want?
Breaking the silent cry of my heart, calling out my fear...
A woman's voice, "Are you here to pray the rosary?"
"I don't know!" And pouring out my heart to this sweet motherly soul
of all the times I ran from the voice asking me to pray.
"Well honey? I think Mary is calling you."
Was all she had to say.
"Mary is calling you." Her words draped over me,
Soothing my tears as a peaceful balm filled my soul.
And now, entering into those days of old
To ponder anew those mysteries, I take a new role.
In the depths of these mysteries You are always near
And I see with new eyes what you reveal for me to see.
I remember well the day of Your Visitation, and with your kin Elizabeth
I say, "And who am I that the Mother of my Lord should come to me?"
JMJ
Feast of The Immaculate Conception 2020
photo credit: Betty Parquette
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