12 May 2013

Mansilla de las Mulas
just east of Leon
450km on Camino thus far

Things Mary NEVER said

Buen Camino

We walked another 27k today along a straight, level gravely trail. They call this the Senda, but it could have been called the long, lonely road. Unlike most of the camino, this stretch offers little landscape change. One can see literally for 10km without obstruction. However, I tend to walk head down lost in prayer and thought. I have to make myself get out of a prayer trance and look up. The heavy clouded sky started to break late morning and to the right, that would be north, we were rewarded with a view of the foothills and farther back in the distance, the snow capped peaks of the mts. OMG, gorgeous. Don't think my photo could give it justice.

As I plodded on, I contemplated that today is Mother's Day. It sure made me miss my sweetie and the chance to celebrate her well-deserved day. My kids will fill her day, I'm confident.

Along 'the way' I got caught up in a meditation inspired by Mother's Day. It was of two great mothers of faith: Mary and Elizabeth. The story in Luke 1 was the scripture centerpiece. I think God just wanted to play with me today. He allowed me some entertaining imaginations regarding these Mothers raising their powerful sons of faith.

It behooves me to emphasize, before I lay out my thoughts, that these are my imaginations born of a meditation. They are not teachings of the church, doctrine, sacred literature. They are just my IMAGINATIONS. Got it.

I got to contemplating Mary's visit in Judah to her cousin Elizabeth. It, of course, makes sense that Elizabeth was older, wiser, and further along in the pregnancy. It must have given Mary comfort and some confidence spending that time with her.

Here's where my meditation ran off. I thought, the scriptures make no mention of Mary and Elizabeth being together again. This intrigued me. Without scripture certainty, I got to imagining that if Elizabeth was a valuable mentor before the birth, she would be valuable even after their giving birth. Why would they have not visited on occasion while raising those boys? Wouldn't family stay connected at least some times? And, when they did, what it must have been like for Jesus and John to be together. Slow down and think of that. Jesus, son of God and John, the Baptist. That is, as little boys, playing little boy games, having little boy conversations. It was a fun imagination for me. Play with it yourself.

I got to imagining, in my mind's eye, Mary and Elizabeth, perhaps sitting together and enjoying stories and updates. Jesus and John would be somewhere playing. Just normal moms, normal boy fun, normal family.

Playfully, I got to considering things Mary NEV ER had to say to Jesus. Try these out. Things NEVER said:
Give your Aunt Elizabeth/Uncle Zachariah a hug
You boys play nice.
Jesus, share your toys with John
Tell him your sorry
Don't forget to pray before your meal
Did you say your bedtime prayers?
Why do you boys keep shouting, "Brood of vipers?"
You boys get out of that river. And quit trying to drown Jesus!

Just fun imaginations. You could add a few, I'm sure.

Then I got to contemplating the fact that Elizabeth and Zachariah were, as scripture states, "advanced in age." They were elderly, new parents.

Knowing that Jesus spent 30 years in private life before ministry, that would add years on Elizabeth and Zachariah. I imagined that there is a 'likelihood' that they died prior to Jesus' start of ministry. I imagined that Mary would have gone to comfort Elizabeth when her husband died. She would have brought her son. This would have given her the occasion to demonstrate how to love a widow. How to comfort the heartbreak of loss John must have felt losing a parent. Who knows. They were advanced in age. He might have been an orphan early on.

I got to imagining how Jesus would have experienced, first hand, what it really means to comfort the "widow and orphan." It was no wonder why Jesus mentioned strongly a care for widows and orphans in the scripture. My imagination led me to consider how he witnessed how his mother might have taught him compassion in such a situation. How much her dear heart influenced her son.

I know this is going to sound funny, but I got to considering that Jesus might have been both a momma's boy, and, at the same time, a man's man. Might be why he's so endearing to all.

Truth be told, I was always a momma's boy. I adored my little Italian mom. Thoughts of her flooded me today in appreciation for not just who she was, but who I've become because of her character, her faith, and her dedicated love for me.

One of my favorite books, favorite, is called, "For One More Day, by Mitch Albom. He wrote Tuesday's with Morrie and Five People You Meet in Heaven. I think the first listed is my all time favorite.

He describes a situation in which a young man is allowed to go back in time and witness his life again as a young boy living with his mother. Chapters are arranged by an event he cherished and wished to repeat. Another chapter displayed an event in which he so deeply regretted and wished he could 'redo' if given but "One More Day."

You can read the book. It's a tear jerker. Well, I also considered one event in my childhood I'd cherish going back to in time.

While I was a young boy at St Barbara's Catholic School, I reached an age when it was time to do my first book report of my first longer chapter book. At that age, I hated to read. ( LOVE to read now.) Of course, I waited until the weekend before the report was due on Monday. There it sat, "St. Joseph's Little Church." Never, never forget the sight of the cover. That was my book. Hardly any of it read and I was lost 'like a ball in tall weeds.'

I vividly recall sitting in the living room all Sat and Sun with my mom. We sat by that old, course-haired, bristly fabric sofa. I would sit on the floor, back against that itchy sofa, and mom would read with me-St Joseph's Little Church. It was a small book, probably the smallest I could check out, but she would patiently stay with me. I'd read, slowly I mention, and she'd ask, " What did that mean?" Then she say, "Write it down." As I recall the details, I remember that I just learned cursive writing and the good sisters INSISTED on perfectly formed letters. OMG how patient Mom must have been to sit through that laborious task of my slow reading and then slower letter writing. Thinking about it sounds excruciating.

If I had, "Just One More Day," I'd go back and try to express how much her sacrificial love meant to me. She believed in me. She adored me/ as she adored all her kids. She gave it her all to be a good mom. She succeeded exceedingly.

So easy to connect that story to memories of my dear wife. She is more than a lady of grace and faith, more than just a servant's heart, more than a treasure as a wife, more than just a great mom.

She is the humble canvass for all her family to display their talents and gifts. She is the cheerleader for their accomplishments. She is fighter for their salvation. She champion for their dreams.

She is a wounded mother made stronger, more noble in faith and love.

She stands proudly with so many mothers who rightfully enjoy a day of special expressions of love and admiration.

The day's not over. Here's your chance to have "One More Day" with Mom. Make it a lifetime memory.

Be blessed.

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

Upcoming:
Leon, includes a 100m gentle climb