I had one of those blissful moments on Monday when all the pieces seemed to fall into place and I felt “successful”. I had to have stitches from a recent surgery removed and my sitter was not available and my mother-in-law is out of town. So I took my baby, 4, 5, and 6 year old with me. I couldn’t hold the baby when they took out the stitches, so my 5 year old sat on the floor and fed him a bottle while my 6 year old read geography questions to my 4 year old. I was so thrilled with their behavior. I relaxed for 2 seconds and smiled at my picture perfect children.
As I stood up from getting the stitches out it was JUST in time to catch the baby as the 5 year old dropped him. Then, making our less than graceful exit, our 4 year old went into another patient’s room mistaking it for the exit. Very. Embarrassing. Reality came back to me pretty quickly (as it always does). I constantly fall into the trap of thinking that holiness is about achieving good outcomes (which stems from my pride) rather than accepting the failures and joys as part of God’s plan for me with trust and abandonment. How I do things is as important as what I do.
That same day I lost my miraculous medal that I always wear. Given the amount of pulling and tugging that goes on for a mom of little guys, it is not the first time this had happened, nor will it be the last. I found the medal the next day as I was wiping under the kitchen table on my hands and knees and I thought about just how fitting of a way that was to find the medal. And I remembered that it was the Eve of this beautiful feast day: The Assumption of Our Lady. Her holiness was predicated on her humility. She trusted and followed God’s plans for her when they led her to give birth in a stable, to flee to Egypt and to simple, humble housework in a small town. It didn’t matter where she was or what she was doing as long as it was in service to the Lord.
The Magnificat, proclaimed today in mass is a beautiful expression of Our Lady’s humility and acceptance of the Divine Will for her. I can find Mary and her Son in the crumbs under my kitchen table, serving on my hands and knees, in silence and humility. I can find Jesus and his mother in the child throwing a temper tantrum or in a quiet snuggle. Where will you find Jesus and Mary today?