Visible Markers
And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. - Lk 2:16-21
In today's gospel, we see Mary's response as a faithful and devoted mother filled with joy and awe at the birth of her son, Jesus. Despite the difficulties and challenges faced during her pregnancy and the birth of Jesus, she did not question the angel's message or try to escape her calling, even if it may impact her life. Instead, she embraced it, chose to follow God's path, and allowed Him to guide her along the way. I admire Mary's faith and willingness to accept the unknown.
On a recent winter trip to Iceland with my family, I learned to trust in the blankness and surrender ever more so. Sitting in the middle of the backseat with my husband driving through the blinding snowstorm, I was the navigator, calling out all the visible yellow markers alongside the road. Headlights from multiple cars stuck along the route were only visible in the night sky. Feelings of uncertainty slowly trickled within me. I then recalled that the only way to move forward when facing any obstacle or receiving healing is to move through, and due to the circumstances, there were no other options or escape. Turning towards Mary that Christmas Eve, I found deep comfort in praying to her, not letting myself be overwhelmed with fear of the unknown, taking one marker at a time, and receiving the strength to face what awaited.
We had to adapt travel plans upon arrival because all roads were closed. We had to seek new refuge for the following day. Thankfully, we found a place but discovered that the only way to get there was to walk in the snowstorm. Countless times we heard in our interactions with others, "It's now or never." We left most of our belongings in the car and brought only our necessities to travel as lightly and freely as possible. I held my daughter in my arms as close as possible, covering her face and resting on my heart. With the wind blowing snow onto my face while I continued to walk, I kept repeating, "God, please be with us," until we made it safely into our shelter that Christmas evening.
Reflecting upon that experience taught me to listen even more to the deepest part of myself when walking into the unknown and how asking God for guidance can bring me pockets of peace. The challenges of life may never cease, burdens and obstacles may wear us down, but I have learned and, especially in my grieving journey, that grief bears witness and time closes the gap, creating space for hope to rise in us once again. Like a guardian angel, hope waits in the shadows, quietly taking our hand when we have lost our way. Emily Dickinson reminds us, "Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul." Hope lives within us. Hidden in the depths. She sings and never stops.
Loving God, keep me close to your heart and guide me towards a place of greater courage, receptivity, and strength to be full of eventual yes like Mary.
Tam Lontok