Making Room in the Darkness

You see, dear one There are mysteries you don’t understand, tragedies you don’t comprehend. I am the Mother who hovers and veils all my children with steady, beating love in times of darkness, with rolling waves of compassion in the waiting. I hold the sorrow of hearts and place them in the night sky, a remembrance of luster and ebony twirling together. I live within the container and beyond the container— vibrations of my voice heard even in the driest desert. Remember me? Blessed Mother Mother of Grace Mother of Strength Holy Mother Mother of Jesus Mother of You. I…

Me Too!

  It’s not in the words she speaks, rather, her lack of language endears her to me. The way she moves silent, a wisp, whir, woo, wrapping warm around me. No advice passes her lips, rather, she sits patient, her hand a snug blanket to my suffering. Her eyes tender, a compassionate glance, a knowing gaze speaks “Me too, I understand.” Her presence, a million unspoken words, one encompassing love.  To Ponder: “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep…

Community.

Friends, Thank you for indulging me this month and giving me permission to lift up the sacred feminine. This feels as if it is only the beginning. To end the month-long series, I leave you with this painting and thought below. It’s in community where we see one another’s eyes, hear a friend’s pain, listen to each other’s stories. We are called to notice a sacred thread running through all. We are asked to acknowledge our connection. We are sisters finding our voice, taking our space, following the wild edge. When we meet along the road, may our gaze meet…