Now you all know that this feast just resonates with me. For me.
I wrote about some of the obvious reasons, here, last year.
Really, I could and probably should, meditate on this feast, these images for a long time, oh…for the rest of my days. Maybe I’d be a better person. Surely, I’d be a better mom. Surely my faith would grow.
Because this feast is all about the letting go.
It’s about the letting go, in blind faith…the kind of faith I can only dream of, reach toward, and pray for a glimmer.
That kind of faith, that kind of willingness to “let go” and accept challenging-don’t-know-the-road-ahead-but-I’ll-keep-on-and-do-my-best-without-whining-endlessly-and-relentlessly-nagging-questioning sort of faith just astounds me.
But she did.
Mary was a girl, a mere girl. Not old, with decades of life to measure the probability of it turning out ok in the end, or to compare to another girl she heard of in the same spot. She had no measuring stick but faith. And she was able to hold her breath, think about it for a moment (Because she was not programmed like a robot, she could have said ‘no,’….Indeed, we are taught that all of creation held it’s breath.)…and say, “fiat.”
I’ll do it. “Thy will be done, not mine.”
Ok, right there, there it is again. That hard stone to trip over; the one that lands me flat on my face, every time. “Your will be done, not mine.” “Your will.” “I’ll go with it.”
But no. Oh my, no. Not at all.
And she was surely scared, and unsure, and didn’t understand, and thought it’s impossible, c’mon. But, somehow, her heart of hearts, her very soul twinged and twanged and she knew. She KNEW, that this was the real deal – the realest deal. And so she bowed her head. She said “ok.” “Yes.” Maybe one of the most beautiful words in language, top ranks for sure:
And so, ever still, I look to her as an example of how to do it right.
I look to her for inspiration that it can really be ok even when it seems impossible and you just don’t know how to move ahead and you’re stepping into the dark without a light to read this new map you’ve been given.
I look to this feast as a reminder and connection to my own Gabriel, my Gabriel Tariku… and how scary that was and how amazing that unknown can be.
I look to this feast, that fiat, and remember that we all get the chance, again and again, to say “Fiat.”
I see another young girl who has done that, again and again.
And who does so, every day as she navigates a new huge world, full of wonders and hard confusing things both, struggles to learn and adapt and grieve and heal and grow and reclaim joy all at the same time.
And I know she says “fiat.”
I think she whispers it, but oh, I know she does say it, again and again.
And she is a little mini annunciation for me, every day.
Will I carry her? Will I love her? Will I teach her? Will I let her teach me?
I know she says “Fiat.”
And so, so do I.
I watch my son as he works through big decisions and changes.
He desires to say “fiat,” indeed, he is saying so but it is so big that it takes prayer and a heart ready to be cracked open to the unknown.
He will navigate a whole new world and yet one that is already so much home to him, perhaps.
And so on this special feast day, I whisper ever more prayers for him as well.
This process, his process and his changes, bring about my own, new and daily fiat too. Stupidly so, as this one is not mine to whisper and yet, it is. Because if I do so too, then it helps him in whatever way he is to go. To know that I am giving him to his yes too, no holding back.
This”fiat stuff”…it’s a big blind breathtaking step. Every time.
And THAT is why we celebrate it with a big feast.
Because it’s a celebration of faith and love.
And deep breaths: fear into faith into joy.
Happy Feast of the Annunciation!
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women
is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, mother of God
Pray for us sinners
Now and at the hour of our death. Amen