It felt like it could have been a scene straight out of a movie. Just moments before, my three year old son had entered our hospital room with my mom to meet his new baby sister. It was one of the sweetest experiences my heart will ever have to cherish – the way he gazed lovingly at her, stretching to plant kisses on her forehead – the high-pitched voice he used to exclaim her name over and over as the concept we had been discussing for months suddenly became a tangible embodiment before his very eyes. It lasted for some brief moments before the chaos ensued….

…that sweet, tiny baby he was so charitably loving on began to wail and my son began to bounce around the room trying to touch things, wondering aloud “why is she crying” – a nurse entered the room to collect vitals, my mom hung up the phone in frustration with my dad who could not for the life of him find a parking spot and a sweet, little old lady  entered the room and began offering suggestions to my husband as he tried to pacify our daughter. Perhaps it doesn’t sound all that chaotic- but to a less than 24 hour postpartum mom with ALL the hormones, it was enough to fill the corners of my eyes with overwhelmed tears.

The soft spoken little old lady remarked repeatedly how beautiful our children were and how my crying daughter “might be hungry,” before finally stating the reason she had entered the room in the first place. “I’m here to bring you Communion.” She said over the sound of wailing and toddler babbling and my mom speaking in hushed, frustrated tones on the phone. My heart leaped within me – Jesus! But another part of me wanted to kindly ask this woman to leave until things were a bit less chaotic and overwhelming – perhaps she could come back when I was presentable, and my baby was sleeping peacefully and my son wasn’t trying to interrupt the “Our Father” with loud gibberish. I felt deep within me that very human inclination to want to be in control of the situation before I welcomed anyone else – let alone Jesus – into it.

But… as she placed the Host upon my tongue and Jesus drew as near to me as He possibly could, I heard His voice whisper to my frazzled heart “This is exactly where I want to be.”

In the chaos. In the messiness. In the middle of the tantrums, and frustration and overwhelm.

That’s where Christ seeks me.

Seeks us.

He doesn’t wait for things to look (or feel) presentable. He comes. and He comes without judgement or disdain or impatience or even hesitation. He comes into our not-so-instagrammable moments with only love and kindness – with the sweet vulnerability and gentleness of a newborn babe. And as I’ve held my own newborn daughter

snuggled close to my chest over these past three weeks, I continue to marvel at the heart of our God- that this is how He would choose to come to us- small and fragile and humble- physically incapable of ruling or judging or dictating. Not a distant, far off King, but a child tiny enough to be held close to our hearts.

And that’s where He wishes to be. So close to us. In the middle of our unplanned, unregulated messy humanity, He wants to rest against our hearts and just be with us, bringing the peace that only a sleeping newborn could possess so effortlessly.

I have been thinking back to the hospital incident over and over again since the start of Advent- a season so easily overtaken by the hustle and bustle of trying to make things “picture perfect.”

I continue to hear that whisper, particularly at the moments I feel the sense of overwhelm crashing down on me- the sleepless 2 AM feeds, and the arguments and mom fails and the house that simply won’t stay clean- there is Jesus, whispering how deeply He longs to be present in all of it.

From the small frustrations of the mundane day to day to the deepest valleys of our most difficult sufferings, Christ wants to be there with you. To wash over you with His worthiness, and to fill the lacking spaces and to just love you.

So let us remember in these remaining two weeks before our Savior’s birth that Jesus doesn’t need us to “be prepared.” He just needs us to be ready to receive. If our hearts and homes feel more the haphazardly thrown together manger than halls perfectly decked- its simply all the more space for Him to rest in…and He rests there gladly, for no other reason than how intimately close it allows Him to be to His beloved.

Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel…into our brokenness, messiness, chaos. Bring the Peace no human hand could create, and be adored by the hearts who so desperately need You in every moment. Amen.

Love + Advent Blessings,

Faith

 

It was a simple invite to play mini-golf from an unexpected number. I saw the familiar last name in the text message, but was surprised to see that instead of an invite from Faith (who was out of town) I was invited to spend time with her husband Paul and a few guy friends one weekend last summer.

The mini golf game was so enjoyable. As we began the game, Paul declared that the winner “gets to buy Mary’s dinner afterward.” (I think it was pretty clear from the start that I wasn’t going to win.)

I felt absolutely, positively loved that day by my friend’s husband. The memory of that day has become an ongoing place of gratitude in my heart, for this is just one of countless surprises that has come from “losing” my friends to marriage.

Yes. I have “lost” more friends to marriage than I can count. It’s been 15 years since my first childhood friend started dating her now-husband. Since then, I’ve stood beside (or in the choir loft) as one friend and sister after another said “I do” to the one man of their dreams.

To the young single woman who told me recently that she’s struggling with the idea of her best friend getting married this year, I get you. It can be difficult to watch a complete stranger waltz into the life of your friend and whisk her away to a new life and a new last name.

No matter how obliging or sacrificial a friend might be, the entire dating and marriage scene changes the priorities in our friendships. And there is a natural sense of insecurity to one outside of the relationship. The reality is – when your fiend gets married, things just won’t be the same.

And do you know what I say to that?

Thank goodness!!

This past decade has opened my heart to a whole new way of looking at the “loss” of friends in marriage. The days of meeting up for burgers after work on a weekday or enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon together are over. Yet, they have ushered in new memories and moments I wouldn’t (and couldn’t!) live without.

There is no denying that my friends change when they get married. It’s something I’ve grown to understand and appreciate over time. They are, in fact, opening the great gift of their vocation and diving into a whole new world of relationship. Change is never a small word.

But the true-blue friends change in the best possible sense of the word. They become more of themselves. I see new places of surrender, sacrifice, and love pour from their lives and into their families. I see their best qualities become even better. I marvel at the ways they bravely maneuver all sorts of new territories, from in-laws on holidays and shared bank accounts to pregnancies, births, and miscarriages. These women show me what love looks like. And they welcome me into so many places of blessed messiness.

I learn through them that the struggle to trust in God’s timing and plan continues into marriage. They teach me that the need to overcome self-doubt continues into parenthood. And they point to my single life and show me that there’s nothing really solitary about it simply because they’re right there, beside me, welcoming me into their lives, homes, and families.

Their children call me “Aunt Mary” – even though I’m not technically their aunt. I get to watch tiny little people grow into smaller versions of my friends and their spouses. My musical repertoire includes rhythms with hand motions and my weekend Christmas schedule is often decided by which youngster is performing in a concert and when. Sometimes, in very special cases, I even get to share in the spiritual journey as a godmother.

Truth be told, I don’t know what I would do without my married friends and their families. Without them, I wouldn’t know just how imaginative children’s’ minds can be when telling scary stories around a bonfire. I might not be able to experience the sweet joy of a newborn’s restful weight on my chest as he sleeps. Or know what that baby’s first day is like in the hospital after she’s born.

With them, I know that it’s possible for a man to love a woman so much that he truly does lay down his life for her.

These good men do more than humor our friendships – they invest in them in a million different ways, making sacrifices and time for visits, nights out, and even adventures to foreign lands. I will never forget something my friend’s fiancé said to me when announcing their engagement and asking me to be in their wedding party, “Mary, we couldn’t imagine our wedding day without you.” I knew then that the joy that comes from sharing lives in different vocations was mutual. Because that’s exactly the way I feel about the men who marry my friends – I can’t imagine my life without them. 

So if you’ve ever wondered if a married and single friends can retain friendships beyond weddings, consider this and know that the bond between two women who share the same heart can grow, no matter how different their lives might look in the everyday. I believe it has something to do with our maternal mission as women, made for motherhood and by nature of the family, invited to sisterhood through it… much like Mary and St. Elizebeth. Perhaps Alice von Hildebrand says it best:

“A woman by her very nature is maternal — for every woman, whether … married or unmarried, is called upon to be a biological, psychological or spiritual mother — she knows intuitively that to give, to nurture, to care for others, to suffer with and for them.”

Want to grow your family? Embrace your single sister into your home – messiness and all! Or, lose your married friend for a minute so she can bring back something more.

Love, Mary