…she treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart.

(Luke 2:19)

This blog has taken a backseat these past few months because I started journalling again. I found five blank notebooks that Stephen had put aside for all his notes. He used to carry around a black notebook with him for work; once he filled one up with ideas and lists and numbers, he would start a new one. Finding this secret stash of blank notebooks was an answered prayer. With my mind being full of so many responsibilities and my heart weighing down on the reality of our current life, I saw this as an opportunity to write. He was quite adamant that I continue to write, how fitting that I find the necessary supplies to do so – no excuses now!

So I wrote and wrote and wrote. I didn’t know how much my heart needed to see the words on paper. The beauty of writing on paper is that it requires no editing. The thoughts come out raw and materialize slowly onto the page. That is another thing, writing forces the thoughts to slow down. As I typed this paragraph, I had already edited, deleted, and changed so many thoughts which are now lost. On paper, the thoughts remain unedited and tangible.

Through my writing (and reading and praying) I have come to realize that our fast paced world has robbed us of wonder. We have the need to get answers right away and we do; everything is literally at our fingertips. However, the convenience of knowledge does not always equate to an acquisition of understanding. I may know the medical background and technicalities of how Stephen died, but I am left to question why. I have a pretty good idea of what the ideal homeschool life should look like, but I still have to implement it. The only thing that can take us from knowledge to understanding is a little bit of time.

Mary knew she was going to be the mother of God, but I often wonder if she understood the magnitude of her fiat when she first held Him as a baby. Did our mother know when she held His body after he was taken down from the cross the victory that was won? She took everything with complete confidence in her God and “pondered them in her heart.” If she had a mug, it would say, “Girl, He’s got this.”

As we celebrate a new year and the Solemnity of Mary the Mother of God, we remember her motherhood. She birthed Jesus, held him when he cried, washed his clothes, probably watched him sleep at night, taught him through stories and loved him as a mother would her child. I am sure she wept quite often and was often left to hope and wonder about the future of her child; and like all mothers, as with all things, only time would reveal the outcome of any choice or action.

In our “insta” life, it is easy to want our kids to learn to do things quicker. I know I often imagine how much easier it would be if they were just a little older. In fact it got to the point last year where I was getting so annoyed with their constant whining and complaining that it was hindering my ability to be a good parent. I kept coming back to the same question: How did Mary do it? She had to raise a child – all be it the Son of God – but a child nonetheless. How did she do it? I really don’t know. I am certain she was as frightened as any mother facing a new unknown. I suppose for Mary and Joseph it involved a lot of prayer, a lot of patience, and some time.

I have a really long way to go in my journey as a mother. In fact, I am certain I will have grown children before I will have a little bit of a grasp of what my role as their mother should be. But rather than fall into despair due to the state of my house and be consumed by the overwhelming fear that I am not enough, I have learnt to be thankful. For every sock that is not in the laundry hamper, I am thankful that they have feet. For each complaint they make, I am grateful they are able to speak. For every whined “Mamaaaaa”, I am grateful that they still need me. For every argument they have with each other, I am thankful they can stand up for themselves. Most of all, in a world that is speeding by, I am grateful that they are teaching me to slow down. I am learning, ever so slowly, that we all need time to grow – especially me.

At the dawn of a new year (and a new decade), my hope rests in the knowledge that neither Mary or Joseph knew exactly what the next day would bring. They began each day with the knowledge that they had the responsibility to raise the Son of God, but their complete understanding of their role as a parent must have come with time. I am not sure if they struggled with the fear of being an inadequate parent, maybe they did, but I am certain if they ever did they would just look at their beloved child and be left in absolute wonder. That is my prayer this year, to be filled with wonder at the miracle of each child and the hope of each day.