Advent Thoughts

Our wonderful local Catholic homeschooling group has members sharing reflections for each day of Advent.  Today was my turn, and a couple of the moms I am privileged to know suggested that I share these thoughts beyond our group, so I'm just going to leave this here:

Not only am I not a cradle Catholic, although I was raised in a sometimes-churchgoing Lutheran family, I was pretty close to atheism for a number of years.  And even after my conversion, although I believed in the Eucharist intellectually, part of me still felt that it was strange and off-putting for a few more years yet.  From the outside looking in, it is admittedly an odd thing to do, to ritually consume the flesh and blood of another.  I grappled with understanding it spiritually and emotionally, with being comfortable with understanding it, for quite some time.

And the thing that brought me closest to the Eucharist, that led to me understanding it on a visceral level, was becoming a mother.  From the backaches and headaches and nausea, there were tiny feet kicking in my belly.  From the pain of labor, there was life in my arms, vibrant and crying.  This is my body, given up for you.

I wondered if I was strong enough to do this thing, to take on the enormous task that had been entrusted to me.  And I rocked and nursed and cried through mastitis and cracked nipples and uterine infections and all the months of sleepless nights that left me dazed.  This is my blood, poured out for you.

And I think that as mothers, we are entrusted with a unique understanding of Christ, not just in His creative power, but in His suffering.  Because it is in His suffering that life is created and sustained.  He gives up His body that we may be fed, He suffers physically that we may have life.  And like a mother, I imagine that this burden was heavy for Christ.  And like a mother, I imagine that there were times when He was afraid, overwhelmed, exhausted, drained.

So when we nurse babies or rock sick little ones to sleep or lay awake with third-trimester heartburn or stay up to go over math worksheets, we offer ourselves to our children, creating and sustaining their lives with our bodies.  Becoming a mother means laying yourself down, submitting yourself to the beauty of a divine creation that tears you apart, both literally and figuratively.  And as much as standing in line to receive the Eucharist, we do this work of motherhood in memory of Christ, as well: do this in memory of me.

Advent is a time of waiting for Christ and the redemption He brings us all, but the first Advent was Mary’s journey to motherhood.  Our redemption was in her aching back and swollen ankles and labor pains.  Our redemption, our nearness to Christ, is in our own work of motherhood.  If in Lent we watch Christ lay down His life for us, in Advent we watch Mary lay down hers for Christ.  Mary was strong, and the difficulty of the circumstances of her motherhood is unfathomable to me.  And so in Advent I prepare for Christ, but I also try to deepen my self-giving in motherhood, as well: the self-donative, self-effacing, self-rendering, redemptive work that we all do, like Mary, in our task of raising little souls for Christ.

Be with us, Lord, in our daily work as mothers.  You have given us both Christ and Mary as models of self-giving love; help us to understand and follow their example.  In the footsteps of Christ and Mary, allow us this Advent to say "yes"  to our vocation without fear.