Call me a sap, a sentimental fool, an emotional what-have-you -- but I've spent most of today in tears or on the verge of tears. It's Mother's Day, after all, and and I was greeted this morning by sweet kisses from my monkey boy, hugs from the others (sniffle!), and off to mass I went. The book I referenced in the last post is still on my reading list, and I am learning to see a very human Jesus, and recognizing in newer, broader ways just how miraculous the incarnation is. All that new, fresh awareness bouncing around in my head is particularly overwhelming at mass, when the reality of that incarnation is staring me in the face. (Tears again.) Not only that, but our esteemed music director chose to use the Regina Coeli chant and an Ave Maria based on on the 13th century chant of the same text. (Sniffle, gulp!)
A quick trip home, get the boys all spit-shined and polished, then off to mass again. Three sweet boys in the pew with me, and my two fine young men serving at the altar. What proud Mama wouldn't cry? Just a little?
After church and a wardrobe change for everyone, we all piled in the van again to go to my nephew's first communion party. There was no shortage of tears in the reminiscences scattered through the day -- my mother-in-law and my grandmother are both three years gone this year. We stopped at the cemetery on the way home to leave a rose for Mom. There were tears all around, and more tears at bedtime from our two oldest, who have the most vivid memories of Grandma Mary.
Off to the chapel at midnight, and there were tears to offer there, as well. Tears of thanksgiving, joy, penitence. Tears of grief and petition, some for me, some for others. Then into bed with one more tear as I sigh, content, that my dear husband sleeps beside me, my sweet boys dream in their own beds, and my Father has ordered it, just so, in his abundant mercy.