Children have a simple and direct way of making a home in a mother’s heart. I’ll never forget the day that 12-year-old Ian came into mine. He arrival was an unexpected surprise that changed my life. He was not the first to come – and I doubt he’ll be the last.

He came on a warm spring day on a coffee shop patio. I noticed that he was sitting by himself and wondered why a child of his age was alone on a Saturday afternoon. I had commandeered a table of my own with an umbrella and had planned to write out my grocery list while I sipped a matcha latte. Instead, as I returned to my table with the hot beverage, I found Ian sitting down next to my stack of papers. 

“Why, hello!” I said. 

“May I sit here?” He asked. 

“Certainly! I’d love the company. But please come and sit here in the shade.”

He grinned and sat in the chair next to mine under the shade of the umbrella. I watched as the boy consumed a seemingly endless procession of sweets and treats. While he ate, he told me all about his life – from his greatest achievements to his deepest insecurities. He was honest, innocent, and spunky. I found myself knowing his story, feeling his pain, empathizing with his desires, and wanting to be there to cheer him on throughout his entire life.

But instead, when the last bite of the sticky bun had been devoured, Ian stood up, wiped his sticky hands, looked me in the eye and announced, “Well, I’m going now. Thanks for letting me sit here with you… It is good not to be alone.”

A piece of my heart walked away with Ian on that day, as it walks away with all the others who take up a home within my heart. 

Home is a place where we are never alone; where one finds comfort, safety, and nourishment. This is motherhood! And it is built into the very identity of every woman, both spiritually and physically. St. Thomas Aquinas tells us that grace builds on nature. Blessed Virgin Mary is perhaps the perfect example of this kind of collaboration between grace and nature. 

If motherhood is being a “home” for another, it is no surprise, that the Holy Spirit came to the Apostles as they were gathered together at home in the Upper Room with Mary. It makes sense that Mary would be present for the birth of the Church. In this way, the harmony of the spiritual family in the Church existed in this way since the very beginning. Mary was a home for the Apostles. She was a safe place for them to be themselves in a hostile world.

Mary was a mother, through and through. She waited and prepared with the Apostles for the coming of the Paraclete. She knew their story. She witnessed their zeal, received their blunders, wept over their persecution, and lingered in their longing. Her presence was real and it was all that was needed. She was not there to fix or provide, to heal or to facilitate. She was there to be present with her sons and daughters, as she is for us, for all eternity. With Mary, as Ian would say, “it is really good not to be alone.”

This is really all a child wants, right? To know that their mother is with them through everything?

“I am quite gifted,” Ian told me on that memorable day. “I’m really good at Math.” Some might shake their head at such a bodacious claim. I smiled, guessing that there was more. And sure enough – there was. After sharing more about his achievements, Ian suddenly got quiet and his face grew serious, “There are things I’m not very good at – like PE. And… I have autism.” In sharing this, Ian was sharing with me a vulnerable place in his heart. In that moment, Ian was a son. And he was home. He was safe and loved in my heart and his sufferings made me love him even more. Only the childlike can be so vulnerable and free. 

For Mary and for us, being a home for our children means experiencing life with them. The child’s joy becomes our joy and their sorrows becomes our sorrows. It is here, perhaps, where she is most a mother. Children want to be with their mother. They want to know that she sees, knows, and loves them. Like the baby who stops crying when he hears his mother’s voice, so are we comforted by our mother’s presence in any given situation. It’s easy to forget in the middle of diapers, night feedings, homework, and meal preparation. It’s hard to remember when we’re aching over the misfortunes and wounds of adult children, battling big lies and facing great fears. To a mother, it all matters. 

I knew Ian for only 45 minutes of this life, but I will treasure what I know for eternity. What Ian doesn’t know is that he will never be alone again. He is always at home in my heart. 

Mary our Mother, is indeed with us. She cares for us like she cared for the Apostles on that day in the upper room. She witnesses our zeal, receives our blunders, weeps over our persecution, and lingers in our longings, too. In this way, we see her showing us the first privilege of a mother in supporting, cultivating, and fostering her children spiritually and yet also, in a very real way. She wasn’t simply an observer – she received the Holy Spirit with her children. Her motherhood is, as the Preface of the Mass of Our Lady of the Cenacle tells us, “a oneness of mind and heart.”

What I experienced with Ian was a very real kind of spiritual motherhood that lives on and continues to bear fruit and love in my heart. The joy I experienced in our brief encounter helps me keep an open heart and table for whoever God sends me way. In being there for Ian, I found for myself the truth to his words: it is good not to be alone! I am not alone! Ian is always with me. I pray for him and sometimes find myself wondering what he’s doing. When I see a child riding a bike in the neighborhood, I often wonder – is that him? I see a school bus pass by and wonder, is he inside? Has he grown taller? Is he happy? Does he know that he’s loved? Please God, let him know he is loved! And I have to believe that the love and prayers he takes up in my life will bear fruit for him in a way that will only be fully known in Heaven.

Life and love are meant to be shared. Like Mary, every woman’s heart has the capacity to be given away, over and over again to the children who come and make it their home. In this way, God entrusts us to each other in special ways as family. And family sticks together, even if it’s just for a few minutes under the shade of an umbrella.

Do not be afraid to be open to life! Leave extra room at your table! You never know who might need a safe place in which to be loved and to love in return. It is, in fact, good not to be alone.

Love, Mary

“Every mystery of life has its origin in the heart.” – Hans von Balthasar