As the holy season of Advent
begins, I think of Mary in the last weeks of her pregnancy, pondering the words
of Isaiah, feeling the Child move within her, rocking back and forth and
humming a soothing melody, discovering that powerful love that parents down the
ages wake to: the fierce, piercing love
which gives all and risks all for the child to come. Although I will never know that love for a
child of my own, I am yet graced by an intimation of it:
My Bridegroom’s Child
Not my own, but my Bridegroom’s Child
I cradle in my arms,
Bone not of my bone, flesh not my own,
But soul of my Lover’s Soul.
In laughing young eyes I see His love shine,
I wipe His tears from a careworn face,
I feel His Heart beat close to mine
In a child’s trusting embrace.
A world full of children, young and old,
All His and so all mine,
To have and to hold from this time forth
Until the end of time.
And so, throughout
Advent and all the days beyond, no matter my age or condition, there will
always be one of His children to wait and watch for, to tend and care for, to
bring His love to! Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus!
- Sister M. Anastasia, FSGM
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