Growing up, I was never drawn to a close relationship with the Mother of Jesus. This was despite being a devout Catholic in a home where we prayed the family Rosary, and where pictures and statues of our Lady were always present. My sister Mary Ellen and I were both named after Mary, too.
I prayed the Hail Mary every day and other Marian prayers when I needed some extra help at school or in life. But, for too many years, Mary was just that ‘lovely lady dressed in blue’ in the background who I admired for her courage to say “Yes” when called by the Lord. But that was about it.
Today, in my Norwich office, I can count 28 pictures and images of Mary around the room. What changed? I did.
It started when I was a teacher and discovered the children’s book “Mary, Mother of Jesus” by Mary Joslin. In the story, Mary is a wise old woman sitting under a tree, sharing her story with the village children. It opened my eyes to consider Mary as someone other than a teenage girl and see her instead as a mature woman with wisdom and insight who could teach me honest and candid lessons about life if I allowed myself to make room for her in mine.
I started to do that in a more intentional way when I discovered Sr. Joyce Rupp’s book about the Seven Sorrows of Mary entitled, “Your Sorrow is My Sorrow.” As I delved into Mary’s sorrows, she became for me someone who understood the pain and heartache I was experiencing in my grief journey. Another book, “Into the Heart of Mary” by Sr. Rea McDonnell, deepened Mary’s presence in my life as it helped me to use my imagination to discover Mary as an intimate friend with whom I could share my personal struggles.
These books fell into my life quite by accident. I wasn’t looking for reading material about Mary, but these books were looking for me, or should I say, Mary was the one looking, and these authors were the instrument she used to allow me to be open enough to find her. She found me at the point in my life when she knew I needed her most, and her timing was perfect.
I think of her at the cross. As Jesus looked down at her, he saw love looking back at him. I want to be like her, with courage and stamina enough to stand by the crosses of those I love and never give up hoping or believing that love and goodness will prevail.
I think of her at the door saying goodbye to Jesus as he started his public ministry. As he walked away from home, he did so with qualities instilled in him by Mary – confidence, strength, and courage – that would sustain him as he faced the unknown future. I want each of my adult children to look back on their life and say, “My mom did that for me, too.”
I think of her sitting with me in my prayer corner reminding me as I ponder that I am not alone in my fears, or my anxieties. She murmurs gently to me, “I am here, Mary-Jo. Talk to me, woman to woman, friend to friend.”
My lovely lady, dressed in blue, is not the young woman who stood in the garden and said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” She is a woman looking back on the passages of life who tells me with certitude that, “God never left my side,” and assures me, He’s never left mine either. My Mary is older, wiser, with wisps of gray hair and soft wrinkles on her face and hands. And when she is with me, her welcoming smile beckons me to relax and confide in her, ask her for advice or just allow her to wrap me in her motherly cloak of love.
The names given to Mary are numerous – Blessed Mother, Star of the Sea, Queen of Heaven, Mother of the Church, Mystical Rose, Queen of Peace, Morning Star. I like to simply call her Mary, my friend, my confidant and my intercessor who whispers my name to her Son and says, “Jesus, heal Mary-Jo’s sorrows, calm her anxieties, and help my friend experience joy in her life.” And, I believe, He does!
By Mary-Jo McLaughlin